


Goat Husbandry

by annemari



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Domestic, Goats, M/M, farms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-09
Updated: 2014-09-09
Packaged: 2018-02-16 18:54:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2280882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annemari/pseuds/annemari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Nick frowns and holds his phone closer to his ear. Maybe he heard that wrong. "You bought a what?"</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"A farm," Harry says.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"A farm what?"</i>
</p><p>
  <i>There's a pause. "A farm?"</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Goat Husbandry

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ferritin4](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ferritin4/gifts).



> Dear **ferritin4**. Thank you for the awesome prompts! This was a lot of fun to write, I hope you like it!
> 
> Thank you to **goingmissing** and **trinityclare** for their quick and great betaing!

Nick frowns and holds his phone closer to his ear. Maybe he heard that wrong. "You bought a what?"

"A farm," Harry says.

"A farm what?"

There's a pause. "A farm?" Harry says again, voice slightly tentative now.

"Like, an actual—"

"Yes."

"Oh," Nick says, and slowly goes back to stirring his pasta. He wonders if he should add more salt to it. He wonders if he added salt in the first place—he was going to, but then Harry called, and Nick got a bit distracted from fixing his tea.

"Nick?" Harry asks. "Are you still there?" The line's vaguely crackling, like one of them is going through a tunnel or summat. Nick's pretty sure Harry's at his house in LA though, most likely sitting by the pool, so.

"I'm here," Nick says. "Where'd you buy it?" Leave it to Harry to get a farm in the wilds of America. (Or are they all ranches there? Probably not. There's some kind of difference, Nick knows.)

"Up north," Harry says.

"North California?"

"No," Harry says slowly. "North England. 'S in Yorkshire."

Nick blinks. That's—that's different, then. "Really?"

"Yeah," Harry says. "Why would I buy a farm in America?"

"Why would you buy one in the first place?" Nick asks. He assesses the boiling pot. It should take a while, still.

"Why not?" Harry asks. "It's a really lovely place, Nick, it used to belong to this old lady, and—"

"Sorry, love," Nick says, interrupting him quickly. "This is going to be a long story, isn't it?"

There's another pause. Nick hates silence during phone calls—he wonders if it's because that's just how he is or if it's the radio instinct kicking in—but he's always willing to wait Harry out. "Yeah?" Harry says. "Probably."

"Right, just give me a second." He quickly checks the timer for the pasta and sits down at the table, ready to listen. "Okay, go."

He can hear the smile in Harry's voice, and when he tries he can picture it, all the way across the ocean.

~

Nick's napping on the sofa when his phone goes off. He swats at it blearily, thinking of just silencing the call and letting it go to voicemail, but when he blinks at the screen he sees it's a blocked number, and, well. He's in the habit of answering those.

"Hiya," Nick says, and coughs to clear his throat. Stupid winter.

"Hi!" Harry says, dragging the word out.

Nick smiles in spite of himself. "Hey, Hazza. How do you sound so awake?"

"Just got up," Harry says. He sounds excited. "It's a clear morning, the sun is shining. Looks like it'll be a _beautiful_ day."

Nick laughs. He loves when Harry sounds like that. 

"How are you?" Harry asks. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good," Nick says. "Fell asleep on the sofa. You probably saved me from a crick in my neck."

Harry tsks. "'S bad for your back."

"Thank you, mother."

"Oh, shut up," Harry says. "Hey, I actually wanted to ask you something?"

"Aw," Nick says. "You didn't just miss the sound of my voice?"

"Nah," Harry says easily. "Can just pop the radio on. 'S easier, I'll just mute you when you get annoying."

"Hey," Nick protests. He stretches out on the sofa, feeling something in his back pop pleasantly, and sits up. Harry's laughing softly on the other end of the line. 

"No, of course I miss you," Harry says softly. Nick leans his head against the sofa and closes his eyes. He doesn't know what to say; feels a bit helpless when Harry gets all sincere and gentle.

Nick misses him too, of course. Harry's been out in LA too long. He's a bit shit at saying it over the phone, though. He figures he shows it, though, with random texts throughout the day and all.

So instead he hums a little, and says, "Go on, then."

"You have a break coming up, right?" Harry asks. "In April?"

"Um," Nick says. "Yeah, but—"

"Great!" Harry's voice is just a bit too loud, crackling over the phone. "Great," Harry repeats. "So, you can come help me."

Nick blinks up at the ceiling. "What?"

"You can come help me at the farm."

Nick's eyes go wide. "The—what?"

"The farm?" Harry asks. "I bought a farmhouse up in Yorkshire?"

"I know that," Nick rolls his eyes. "What do you mean, I'll come help you."

"Remember when I told you about how I bought it, and you asked me if I actually knew how owning a farm worked? And I said I'd find someone?"

"Yes?" Nick says slowly.

"I found someone," Harry says. "It's you."

Nick frowns. "What? Me? Why is it me?"

"You've been at farms, yeah?"

"I'm not sure if that qualifies me."

"No, I mean—you said Jane knew stuff about it, and, like, I barely know anything. You'll help me, right?"

Nick picks at his nails. "What exactly are you—what's the plan?"

"I'm going to go out there for a bit," Harry says. "We have that string of short promo coming up soon. Couple of shows, and stuff, too. But then we're off for a few months, so."

"You're not going to stay in LA for those? Figured you'd be writing."

"Nah," Harry says. "Kind of need a break. They, uh. Kind of suggested I take a break. Not a long one! I mean, I can do work from here, even writing stuff, can do it over Skype anyway, just. You know."

Nick hums. He knows. He remembers one phone call from Anne in particular, her worrying Harry was overextending himself, overworking. He's glad to hear something came of it.

"So I was planning on being there in April, and it's right around your break, so it's perfect."

Nick shakes his head, smiling. "And what if I had plans already?"

"You don't," Harry says immediately.

"Uh, I might do," Nick says. "How do you know I don't?"

"Well, they're not very good plans, then," Harry says. "Otherwise you'd have told me already."

Nick rolls his eyes. The worst part is that Harry's right, the little shit. He thought of going to LA again, but nothing's really been set in stone yet.

"Come on," Harry says. "It'll be nice. A proper holiday, like."

"Well, I was hoping for something warmer," Nick says.

"Niiick," Harry says. Nick can practically hear him pouting. "Please. It'll be fun, I promise."

Nick sighs and scratches at his stomach. He's starting to feel hungry, and he's not sure what he wants for tea tonight. Randomly, he remembers one evening almost a year ago now when Harry came over and they cooked together. Harry was trying to watch Bake Off at the same time and almost sliced his finger off, chopping vegetables.

Fuck. Sometimes Nick misses him terribly.

"Nick?" Harry asks.

"Yeah," Nick says, briefly squeezing his eyes shut and smiling. "Yeah, okay. I'll be your knight in shining whatever."

"Yes," Harry says, barely a whisper. "Yes, okay, I'll work out the details later, right? Let you know?"

"Course," Nick says. "Anything else I can do for you, your highness?"

"Shut up," Harry mutters, smile in his voice. "I thought we could just chat, actually? Haven't spoken properly in a while. You saw the pictures I sent you, right? Of the new kitchen?"

"Yeah," Nick says.

"What did you think?" Harry asks, sounding genuinely curious, like always.

"It looked good," Nick says, stretching himself again and preparing for a longer conversation. Food can wait, really.

~

Spring drags on, as usual. By the last show Nick's climbing the walls, so ready for a break. Nixtape that day is _wild_.

He hugs Matt, Fiona and Ian goodbye, with promises to behave and make it back in one piece after two weeks off. To be fair, this might be the first time no pictures of him will end up in Heat. Unless he, like, dies in a freak farming accident. Nick doubts that's likely.

The original plan was for Nick to already be on his way Friday afternoon, but an interview came up, so he's setting off Saturday morning instead. He invites Daisy around that night to help him pack and listen to him complain about Harry dragging him off to some farm in the cold when he could be spending these two weeks in LA instead.

"How many pairs of wellies do you think you'll really need?" Daisy asks.

"Two, definitely," Nick says. "Maybe three. They said it's going to rain. And these boots. Oh, and those trainers."

Daisy picks up the trainers, wine glass held carefully in her other hand, and chucks them at Nick. Nick doesn't even attempt to catch them. He pushes them aside, into the "pack later" pile. Right. 

"What else?" Nick asks. "I'm missing something."

"Pants," Daisy says. "I'm not going near those."

"Good thinking," Nick says. "Do you think I have enough jackets?" (He's missing one of his favourites—a red-black plaid one. He thinks Harry might have it; Nick's hoping he'll bring it.)

"You can barely fit them in your millions of suitcases, so, yes. Probably."

"Right," Nick says. "Why did I agree to this again?"

"Because it's Harry," Daisy says, smile in her voice.

Nick sighs. That's kind of what it always boils down to. It's Harry.

"And it might be fun," Daisy says. "Get you out of the city for a bit, clear your head. Like the weekends you spend with your fam, just a bit longer."

"Yeah," Nick says. "I suppose. Just, you know how I get when I don't have—" He waves his hand. "People around."

"You'll have Harry." Daisy gives him a smirk. "Trust me, he'll provide you with all the attention you need."

Nick rolls his eyes. "Shut up."

Thing is, Nick thrives in company. He always has, and there's nothing more thrilling than a big group of people who he gets to impress. Harry's just one person. He doesn't need to impress Harry. He's tried to, definitely; he's pulled out so many tricks in the past, trying to impress Harry. It's just, he knows he doesn't really _have_ to. And lately, he's realised that sounds really fucking nice.

Besides, he's missed Harry something awful. He can brave the dreary spring weather up north in the middle of fucking nowhere for Harry.

And who knows, maybe Daisy's right. It could be fun. Things usually are when Harry's around.

"Aw, Nicky," Daisy says. "Your face has gone all soft."

Nick throws a rolled up sock at her. She squeals and spills wine on his carpet. Nick's life is such a hardship.

~

Nick gets lost twice on the way up to Harry's. His sat nav seems to be fucking up a bit, and he ends up driving past the right road, which actually turns out to be a dirt track with no bloody name. He only realises once he's almost gone in a circle around the area, and then has to double back on himself to get to the turning. By the time he actually gets there he's slightly annoyed and _starving_.

He recognises the house at least, from the picture Harry sent. It's a bit smaller than it looked on the picture. Nick stares at it for a moment before parking his car next to a shed. Right then.

He's barely had the chance to get out of the car and stretch his legs when the front door of the house opens and Harry's hurrying towards him.

"Nick!"

He's bundled up in a large coat, scarf almost falling off from round his neck, hat looking like it's been hastily shoved on. One of his boots is untied and Nick is ninety percent positive he'll trip on it at some point.

God, Nick's missed him so much.

Nick meets him in the middle and immediately pulls him close for a proper hug. "Hey, love."

"Hi," Harry says, breath warming Nick's cheek.

Nick clutches him close and just breathes him in for a second. He's allowed. He's definitely allowed, it's been ages. Months. Too many.

Harry's arms are wrapped solidly around his waist so Nick thinks he feels the same.

Finally Nick pulls back. He gets a quick look at Harry's face—cheeks flushed, hair falling into his eyes. He doesn't look as tired as Nick feared he would, what with Anne's calls and Nick's own worries.

"Good drive?" Harry asks.

"Yeah," Nick says. "Got a bit lost, but hey, I made it."

"You did." Harry's beaming. Nick's smiles back automatically. It's like a reflex, every time. "Are you hungry?"

"Starving," Nick says, and Harry giggles again. "So," Nick continues. "What's all this then?" He waves his hand at the house and the shed and, well, everything.

"Do you like it?" Harry asks. "It's nice, right."

"Bit smaller than I thought."

"Oh, yeah, it is," Harry says. "But there's a lot of land. I kind of wanted something smaller, actually."

Nick nods. "It looks a bit—" He's not sure how to put it. It doesn't look nearly as fancy as he assumed it would be. Harry did tell him he wanted to do some work on it, but Nick didn't really expect a small muddy driveway and a roof that looks like it's a second away from starting to leak on the left hand corner. "Like. Old."

Harry laughs. "Well, yeah. It is old. Um. Didn't I tell you it needs a bit of fixing up?"

Nick crosses his arms, the wind chilling him. "I sort of thought you meant, like, that the shed needs painting or summat."

"Oh," Harry says. "No, it—uh, a bit more than that. Anyway, come inside, I'll show you." He's back to smiling, the corners of his eyes crinkling happily.

"Right," Nick says. "Let me just get my stuff." 

Harry's smile only grows wider as he helps Nick carry all of his bags out the car and to the front door. He does trip over his feet at one point and only huffs and then laughs, leaning down to tuck his shoelace into his boot. Nick feels impossibly fond of him. He doesn't think about it often, because, well, he sort of feels like that all the time around Harry (and often when Harry's not actually there), but sometimes it just hits him. That warm, aching feeling in his gut.

"Okay," Harry says. "Are you ready for this?"

"Probably not," Nick says honestly, and lets Harry lead him inside.

It's—not that bad inside. It's not falling apart or anything. It just looks like an old house. There's a nice air to it, though. It seems comfortable and lived-in and _interesting_. He gets why Harry bought it, at least.

Then Harry says, "Oh, by the way, there's no wifi," and Nick starts to doubt things.

"There's—but there's electricity, right?"

Harry looks at him like he's insane. "Of course there's electricity." He demonstrates it by turning on the light in what looks like the living room, and rolling his eyes. "I just haven't gotten around to setting everything up yet. Come on, let's get your things upstairs."

The staircase doesn't break under their weight, which Nick counts as a big plus.

Honestly, it's not like it's absolutely terrible. It's just, Nick assumed it'd be one of those farmhouses that have been remodelled and completely decked out and all. He wouldn't have been surprised to see an indoor pool.

Then again, this is Harry. Harry who, however many giant houses he buys and remodels, still likes to spend most of his time with his friends. He likes homey things; places that feel comfortable.

So, yeah, Nick's not really that surprised at all.

"You're quiet," Harry says, and stops outside a door Nick assumes leads to his room. "D'you not like it?"

"No," Nick says quickly. The thing is, even if this wasn't clearly really important to Harry—and it is, and Nick's going to do all he can so this goes well for Harry—Nick would still probably like this place. It just needs a bit of work, that's all. A bit of looking after. Nick likes it. "No, love, it's really nice. It's great."

"Good." Harry grins, and pushes the door open. It's a small room, just a bed, a dresser, a tiny window. Somehow they've managed to wedge a wardrobe into one corner. It doesn't look like anyone's stayed in it recently.

"Is this your room?" Nick asks, confused.

"No, it's yours," Harry says.

Nick looks at the small bed. He looks at Harry. He's shit at sleeping alone. This is going to be awful.

"Oh," Harry says. "It's for your things! Like, there's the closet and stuff, and, uh—I don't think all your bags would fit in my room."

"So, like—" Nick says.

"My bed's bigger than this," Harry says, smiling. "So, you know." He shrugs.

"Oh, thank god," Nick says, and drops his bags in front of the bed he _won't_ be sleeping in, thank you.

Harry laughs. "Don't worry," he says. "I wouldn't leave you to sleep alone."

"You better not," Nick says. "If I die from loneliness I'll come to haunt you."

Harry's eyes light up. "Oh, hey. Do you think this place could be haunted?"

Nick pauses. Harry looks far too excited about that prospect. "No," Nick says. "No, let's—let's say it's not."

"But—"

"No," Nick says. "No ghosts. Now, where's the kitchen?"

Harry screws up his face, thoughtful, and doesn't move.

"What are you doing?" Nick asks.

"Trying to remember a joke," Harry says.

"Cool," Nick says. "Do it in the kitchen, love, or I actually will starve."

Harry pouts, but turns and heads back downstairs. Nick rolls his eyes and follows him. God. Harry.

~ 

The kitchen is small and feels a bit damp. There's a proper oven, and a big fridge, though. 

"There's running water, right?" Nick asks. "Please tell me we have water."

Harry grins. "We have water."

"Thank god," Nick says. "Food?"

"What do you want?" Harry asks.

"Anything," Nick says. "Starving."

Harry rolls his eyes. "I know, I heard. D'you want, like, sandwiches and stuff? I was going to make spag bol for tea."

"Yeah, okay," Nick says. "Do I get the proper tour later?"

"I figured," Harry says. "Don't want you to starve on the way, right."

"Right," Nick says, and sits down at the small kitchen table. "Go on, then."

Harry grins and gets to work. Nick would help him but he knows Harry enjoys this part, doting on someone, feeding them. It's nice to be looked after.

"So," Nick says. "What really is the plan, here?"

"Well," Harry says, buttering some bread. "There's the house, then the shed you saw, and the barn behind the house. The barn's in the worst shape, so it definitely needs fixing. The shed's mostly fine, but it could also do with some work. And the house—well, I'm trying to decide what to do with it, you know?"

Nick nods. "Okay. You said—you were planning on being here at least till I had to go back to London."

"Yeah," Harry says easily, and presents Nick with a sandwich.

"Why?" Nick asks, and digs in. "I mean, holiday, yeah, okay. But. What are we going to do here?"

Harry tilts his head, considering.

"I mean," Nick swallows, and clears his throat. "I'm really fucking glad to see you, Hazza. 'S just, you said, hey, come out here, and help me with this, and I'm still not sure what this is exactly."

"But you still came," Harry says, smiling.

Nick rolls his eyes. "Yeah. I'm just wondering if you, like, have a plan?"

Harry shrugs and sits down as well. His knees bump into Nick's under the kitchen table.

"I think," he says slowly, "I just want to get a feel for the place. See what it's like, you know? I mean, I could have just let them fix up everything before coming out here, but then it wouldn't have felt mine, I think. Or, like. I don't know."

"I get it," Nick says gently.

Harry nods, seeming more sure of himself. "So, I think, like, we can go get a good look at the land, and maybe get a headstart on cleaning out the barn and stuff. Take care of it for a bit. Look around the house."

"Haven't you done that yet?" Nick asks. He knows Harry got here Wednesday morning already. The first thing Nick would do was snoop.

"Just a glance, really," Harry says. He chews slowly on his own sandwich before continuing. "Been a bit busy. Visited the neighbours, though."

"Cool," Nick says. "So. House inspection, ground inspection, seeing if we can survive here without wifi and a strong 3G signal. That it?"

"I'll get wifi," Harry says. "Monday. We'll get it set up on Monday."

"Thank god," Nick says. Harry snorts and kicks at Nick's leg. They're quiet for a bit after that, eating.

Nick doesn't ask what he's been meaning to—what does Harry really think is going to happen to the place when he goes back to work, back on tour? Will it just sit here, all alone again? Will he hire someone to look after it? Sell it?

Nick figures they can work up to that. He doesn't want to curb Harry's excitement. He looks content at the moment, sitting here in this old kitchen. There's no point in taking that away.

"Oh," Harry says. "Mum's coming next weekend."

"Nice," Nick says. He loves Anne. It's been too long since he's seen her, too.

Harry nods. "She wants to see the garden. There's an old greenhouse, too, but it's broken. A branch fell on it last autumn."

"Could have it fixed, too," Nick says. "Grow your own bananas."

The eye-roll he gets from Harry is quite impressive. "Shut up," he mutters. There's a smile tugging on the corner of his mouth, though. Nick grins.

"So," Harry says, when they've finished with the sandwiches. "Do you want to see the goats now?"

Nick almost spits out his juice. He waves his hand around and tries to properly swallow while Harry looks concerned. Finally Nick croaks out, "Goats?"

"Well," Harry says. He looks proper sheepish now. (Ha, sheepish. If only he'd said sheep. Oh, god, Nick's turning into Harry.) "Yeah? This lady who lives nearby, Mary, she has a bunch of goats, and she heard someone bought this place so she got in touch and we sort of started talking and I sort of—bought some of her goats?"

Nick stares at him.

"I mean," Harry says, defensive now. "It is a farm. The shed's all nice and stuff. I figured it'd be nice to—yeah."

"So," Nick says slowly. "Before you arranged to get wifi in here...you bought goats."

"Well," Harry says. "It seemed more...farm-like."

Nick groans.

~

There are actual goats. There are two in a pen behind the shed Nick parked next to, which would explain why he didn't notice there are actual fucking goats here. They're, like, proper big goats, not those small ones Nick was imagining.

"Wow," Nick says.

Harry beams. "I know."

"Are they—I—you have goats."

"I know," Harry repeats. "They're great."

"Do you even know how to look after goats? They need proper care, love."

Harry looks vaguely insulted at that. "I know that. Mary has been giving me tips. She's come by every day, and I've been reading up on it myself."

"Where?" Nick asks.

"Mary gave me some books."

"Are those books from the 1970s?"

"It's not like goat raising has changed that much," Harry mutters.

Nick smiles to himself. Harry sounds so petulant. "I'm just teasing, love," he says, throwing an arm around Harry's shoulders and pulling him close. "They're great."

Well, they look a bit scary, even though they're not that big. They're running around the pen, like, playing or something. It's odd, but endearing. Goats. Cute.

"What are their names, then?" Nick asks.

"Uh, Goat."

"What, both of them?"

Harry shrugs. "It fits!"

Nick makes a face. "That'll get confusing."

"Fine," Harry grumbles. "You name them." There's a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, though.

Nick hms. "They're kind of stinky."

"Are not," Harry argues.

"A bit," Nick says. "Stinky. And Smelly. That's their names."

"Which one's which?" Harry asks.

"That one," Nick says, pointing out the one that's slightly bigger and has a small black stripe under one eye. "Is Smelly. And the smaller one is Stinky."

Harry snorts. "Awesome."

"Full names Stinky Baby Goat and Smelly Baby Goat, obviously."

"Obviously," Harry says. He's grinning properly now.

"Hey, do you have to like milk them and stuff? Are they milk goats?"

"Not yet," Harry says. "They're not old enough. Come on, let's feed them."

~

"Wait," Harry says, before they go into the shed. "You brought your hay fever tablets, right?"

Nick freezes for a second. Did he? He remembers Daisy telling him to. "Yeah," he says. "Got them in my bag, I think." Then he realises. "Oh my god."

Harry winces.

"Oh my god," Nick says. "We both have hay fever. I have _asthma_. Harry, what the fuck?"

"It's fine," Harry says quickly. "I mean, I just remembered to ask right now, because, well, hay. But it's honestly not that bad. There's not, like, pollen here, you know? I mean, inside."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," Harry says. "I've been fine myself. I mean, the tree pollen's getting to be a bit rough, but the tablets are helping, you know."

"Right," Nick says, bracing himself. "Okay. Let's go, then."

Harry's right—there's hay and stuff on the floor, but it doesn't really make Nick's nose itch more than it usually does. He pats his pockets and finds that his trusty puff puff is still there too, so. Should be fine.

They refill the hay rack with fresh hay, and Harry lugs buckets of water over from the well. 

The goats don't seem to care much at the moment, really, but when they're back outside Harry produces some carrots from his pocket, hands them to Nick and says, "Feed them."

"Uh," Nick says. "Okay?"

Harry grins. "Come on, just wave them at them, they'll come."

Nick rolls his eyes, but does as he's told. "Here, goats!" he calls, waving his hand around. "Here, Stinky! Here, Smelly!" Amazingly, they both come running over. "Look, Haz, they're already reacting to their names!"

Harry laughs, and he keeps laughing while Nick tries to divide up the carrots and not get his fingers bitten off.

"Come on," Nick says, and turns to throw one carrot at Harry. "They're your goats, put some effort in it."

Harry tries to catch the carrot, but it drops at his feet, and Stinky storms at it. Harry yelps and jumps back.

Nick starts laughing, but at Harry's betrayed look he tries to muffle it against his coat sleeve. "You okay, love?" he asks.

"Yeah," Harry says, and steps around Stinky who's currently busy inhaling the carrot. "Just. Um. I got attacked by a goat once?"

Nick blinks. "Oh my god."

"'S when I was ten," Harry says. "It's not a big deal."

Nick bites his lip to not start laughing again. "You sure, love?"

"Yeah," Harry says. "Just—they're great, it's just scary when they charge at you like that."

"Of course," Nick says. Harry has a point, it's not like they're those small goats that you see in petting zoos and stuff. They're proper goats. It's just—it's so Harry.

"Give me another one," Harry says, holding out his hand. Nick hands him a carrot and Harry crouches, feeding it to Smelly. It's sweet.

"Hey," Nick says. "I thought you said Mary came by to help you every day."

"Yeah," Harry says. "She's not coming today. Cause it's the weekend and I told her I had a friend coming."

Nick smiles. He's not sure why that makes him feel warm. "I was just wondering, like, what exactly you need help with? They seem to do fine."

"Oh," Harry says. "It's just easier with two people. And I still have a lot to learn, so, you know. And then when they start milking it's going to be a lot more work."

Nick nods. He wonders if Harry's still going to be here when that happens. It's not really like he can stay forever; probably not even long-term.

"We should get them more carrots," Harry says. "And you can keep feeding them."

"We can just put them in a food bowl or summat," Nick says.

Harry sighs. "But it's nice like this."

Smelly yells right in his face. Harry topples over, landing on his arse in the damp grass.

Nick tries to stop laughing and help Harry up at the same time. Neither goes very successfully. Finally, their feet stop slipping so much and they manage to get Harry upright. He looks a bit shocked, his eyes wide and colour high on his cheeks.

"Maybe," he says slowly, "we should get them more carrots. And leave them alone."

"Possibly," Nick says, and brushes Harry off. "We should go check out the house, too. You said you wanted to? Maybe we can find some ghosts."

Harry smiles a little at that. He's still clinging to Nick's arm. "Yeah," he says. "That'd be cool."

Nick really doubts it would, but, well.

"Wait," Harry says. "Goats. Almost sounds like ghosts."

"Good job," Nick says. "Excellent deduction. Comes really handy in songwriting, that kind of brain."

"Yeah, maybe I should try it," Harry says dryly.

"You might have a shot," Nick says. "Might become proper famous and all."

Harry nods thoughtfully. "Rich and famous maybe, even."

"Proper popstar. What would you do if you became famous, Harry Styles?"

"I think," Harry says slowly. "I'd make friends with a hot radio DJ. And buy a farm."

"Don't want to shoot higher than that?"

Harry gives him a soft smile. "Nah," he says. "Not really."

There's a moment where Nick sort of holds his breath for a bit, not sure if he should say anything or not, his brain briefly going into overdrive, but it passes. Harry's smile doesn't.

"Come on," Harry says. "I need to show you the barn. It's a mess."

Nick snorts, and slides his hand onto Harry's back. "Lead the way."

"Also, I want to buy a cow at some point."

Right. Nick will deal with that later.

~

They spend the rest of the day checking up on the goats, cleaning up after them, and exploring the house when they have time. They don't get much further than the ground floor—Nick refuses to go into the basement on the grounds of it being cold and potentially scary. 

The living room has a lot going for it. There's two old sofas, two armchairs, and a rocking chair. There's an open fireplace in the corner and a desk where a TV obviously used to sit.

"Why didn't they take any of the furniture?" Nick asks.

Harry shrugs. "Don't know," he says. "Guess they figured, what's the point?"

"It's kind of sad," Nick says. Nothing's in the best of shape, but the sofas look comfy. They are comfy. Nick doesn't think about everything that could be hiding in them as he sits down on one. They can maybe drag them outside tomorrow and let them air out.

"Maybe," Harry says. "It's just furniture. All the cupboards are empty, at least."

"Yeah," Nick says, shuddering. "That would have been weird."

"Come on," Harry says. "Let's go have tea."

This time Nick does help with the cooking, following Harry's directions. They eat at the small kitchen table again, because the dining room looks just a bit too bleak, the lamps not strong enough to light it properly.

It's only around seven when they finish, but Nick's so tired he feels like he could fall asleep right there.

"Hey," Harry nudges him in the side. "I'll clean up, you go shower, yeah?"

"Yeah?" Nick asks.

"Of course," Harry says. "You look dead on your feet."

"Fuck," Nick says. "I was going to say it was an early morning, but—"

Harry laughs, and nudges him again. "Yeah, probably not. No, but seriously, you had a long drive, and today was—like, a lot. Go on."

"Thanks," Nick says, slowly getting up. He stops to press a kiss to Harry's hair. It's sort of instinct, a bit.

Harry grins and slaps his bum as he passes. Nick smiles.

The bathroom on the ground floor is the only place that seems to have been remodelled in the recent years. It's small, but clean, and has an actual _shower_. Nick is so grateful.

He has to walk through the cold house and up the stairs to get to their room afterwards, but whatever. At least he's clean, and slightly warmer than before.

He stops by his room to quickly change into his PJs and get his contact solution and glasses, and then heads to the room Harry had pointed out earlier.

Harry's already there, curled up in a small armchair and checking his phone. He's wearing a t-shirt and boxers, his feet bare. It's really warm in the room. Harry's hair's hanging in his face, and he's chewing on his nails while he thumbs through his messages. Nick quietly closes the door behind him.

"Hey," Harry says, looking up then. "Good shower? I set up a fire in the stove earlier while you were checking on the goats. Nice, right?"

"Yeah," Nick says. "Fuck, it's warm. I thought my feet were never going to be warm again."

Harry rolls his eyes. "'S your own fault. You should have brought proper socks."

"I forgot!" Nick says. "I had to pack, like, three pairs of wellies, okay."

"It's okay," Harry says. "You can borrow mine, I suppose." He's smiling softly.

"So generous," Nick says, half-teasing. "Let's go to bed, I'm knackered."

It turns out Harry's bed isn't really bigger than the one in Nick's room; it's just two small beds pushed together. There are two sheets and two duvets. Nick frowns at it.

"Sorry," Harry says. "There's, like, the bed in your room, and then another one that size in another room on this floor, and then a bigger one upstairs. But the bigger one's smaller than, well, this." He waves his hand at the beds in front of them. "I figured this was best."

"They're going to move in the night," Nick says. "And one of us is going to fall through the hole in the middle."

"Well," Harry says. "Probably."

"Right then," Nick says. "As long as you're prepared."

It's not Nick's bed, but they still take their usual spots, Nick on the left and Harry on the right.

Nick's tired enough that he doesn't even complain about overheating when Harry turns on his side and rests his head against Nick's shoulder, arm going over Nick's waist.

He thinks about it, but it seems like too much effort to open his mouth, so he just pats at Harry's hand and mumbles something.

Harry doesn't answer, already asleep. Nick follows almost immediately.

~

It rains for pretty much the entire next day.

"Do you think this is a joke?" Nick asks, staring out the kitchen window at the front yard. "Like, this isn't an England drizzle. This is proper, full on rain."

Harry shrugs and flips over another pancake. Of course he's making pancakes. It smells amazing.

"Can I flip one?" Nick asks.

Harry gives him a suspicious look. "You'll drop it."

"Psh," Nick says. "I won't. _You_ can do it."

"Hey," Harry complains. "I've practiced."

"So?" Nick asks. "Come on, let me try. I've done pancakes before."

Harry shakes his head and guards the pan, protective. Nick huffs out a laugh.

They've already been out in the rain twice, to let the goats out in the early morning, and then to check up on them later. Stinky and Smelly don't seem to like the rain, either.

Now they're inside making brunch, and Harry is being a pancake hoarder.

"Come on," Nick says. "Just let me flip one."

"No," Harry says. "I flip, you eat."

"That's a terrible idea. I'll get fat. Well, more—"

"Don't," Harry points at him, "finish that sentence."

Nick pouts. Harry shoves a pancake at him.

Nick eats it and watches Harry make more. He does little flourishes when he flips them, little Harry-like touches.

"Go on, then," Nick says, chewing. "How high can you go?"

Harry just grins. When it comes the time to flip the next one he puts on his game face, brows furrowing in a way that Nick finds absolutely way too endearing. He bounces the pan in his hand a bit before throwing it up, high, high, and catching it masterfully. "Yes," he cheers. "Get in."

Nick is so fond of him. It's terrible. They've been friends for years and years and it's still terrible.

They eat all the pancakes. Nick complains about being too full to move for a while, so Harry lights a fire in the living room and they curl up on the sofa, watching The Simpsons on Nick's laptop.

It's probably not the most farmer-like activity, but Harry doesn't seem to care.

They make a full Sunday roast that evening, trimmings and all. Nick realises after they're done that he hasn't checked his phone all day.

Honestly, it's one of the nicest weekends.

~

It keeps raining on and off. 

Mary comes by on Monday, to check up on the goats and see if Harry needs anything else. She's a lovely woman, only lives five minutes up the road.

She vaguely knows that Harry was famous, and says she's occasionally heard Nick on the radio, but that's mostly it. She's great to talk to, and they both agree to go over to hers at some point later in the week for a visit.

They take Nick's car up to the nearest shop later; Harry stocking up the fridge, while Nick is in charge of the wine. It's nice. Proper domestic and all. It makes Harry's expression turn all soft and glow-y. Nick loves it when Harry gets like that. Honestly, he'd probably do a lot of stupid things to get Harry to look like that all the time. Driving out here to be a part of some nature experiment doesn't even make the list.

On Tuesday they have someone coming by to pick up the old hay they found in the barn, but first they have to get it _out_ of the barn, and the guy is late, so it's a lot of dragging heavy stuff around in the cold whenever the rain eases off.

At least after Nick can go and curl up with his laptop because they _finally_ got a BT engineer round to install the internet that morning.

"I'm not moving for a week after we're done with this," Nick says. "I refuse."

Harry straightens up and winces. Nick feels bad for him; he may complain a lot about his knees, but Harry needs to keep stopping to stretch his back and wave his arms around and stuff.

"You okay?" he asks Harry.

"Yeah," Harry says, shaking himself. "'M good."

"You sure?" Nick asks. He feels like an overprotective mother hen, but, well, he worries.

Harry rolls his eyes. "Yes, I'm sure. God."

Nick pokes him in the cheek. Harry bats his hand away, grinning. Finally they hear a car pulling up in front of the house.

Getting the hay on the trailer is more hard work, especially since their buyer is probably around the age of Nick's dad. Apparently his wife can use it in the garden or summat; Nick would be a lot more interested if he wasn't this cold.

They warm up in the kitchen, Nick checking his emails while Harry catches up with Anne and Gemma. Apparently they made him promise to not do anything work related while out here. Nick's not sure how long that's going to last, really. Harry was just as eager to get the wifi sorted.

It's back to rain when they go out to feed the goats. Even Stinky and Smelly look betrayed.

"You know," Nick says, fumbling with the lock on the shed door. "When I said I liked this place, that wasn't an invitation for the universe to fucking _test_ me with rain and mud and god knows what."

"Hey," Harry says. "It's not its fault." He reaches out and pats the door. Nick laughs.

It stops raining again while they're filling the water bowl, and the goats immediately run back outside.

"Wow," Nick says. "They move fast."

"Yeah," Harry says. "I read that you're supposed to make sure your fence is extra secure, otherwise they'll bolt."

Nick makes a face, and sets down the bucket. "Danger goats."

Harry laughs. They traipse out of the shed; the goats are in the corner of the pen, doing whatever it is goats do. Like, play-fighting or something. It's cute. It looks a bit scary, but cute too. Animals are weird.

The rain has turned the area around the back of the shed into nothing but mud. It's like Glastonbury up here, only without the—well, the everything else.

"Do you think it'll ever not be muddy?" Nick asks, frowning down at his wellies.

"Probably," Harry says. "Maybe."

"I can't picture it anymore," Nick says. "What was life before mud, Haz?"

"Really sad for earthworms?" Harry asks.

"Oh my god," Nick says. "Why are you like this?"

Harry's eyes crinkle. "Like what? Cute?"

"Terrible," Nick says. "Awful."

"Hey," Harry complains, and pushes Nick in the chest. 

Nick falls over. He literally falls over, his back hitting the ground with a thud. It's wet. There's probably mud in his hair. Oh god.

"Oh god," Harry says. Nick blinks up at him. Harry's blinking back, his eyes wide. "Shit, Grim, I'm sorry, I—"

He tries to reach down and pull Nick up, but his feet slip and then he's on top of Nick.

Nick starts laughing. Maybe half-way wheezing. "Oh my god."

"Ow," Harry says, and then he's laughing as well.

"Is this a joke?" Nick asks, breathless. "Like, is this the most cliche farm thing ever?"

Harry leans his chin on Nick's chest. Nick's back is _so_ wet. He should probably push Harry off of him and get up immediately, because otherwise he'll, like, catch fucking pneumonia or something and die like they did in the books. But he can't make himself do it. This is the most ridiculous thing that has happened to him recently, and he's cold and wet and he can feel the mud seeping in through his hat. He doesn't want to push Harry off. Fucking ridiculous.

"I don't think it's a cliche farm thing," Harry says slowly, smiling. "Proper farmers probably don't really fall down."

"Aw," Nick says. "But how could we not be proper farmers, Haz? We've had, like, days of practice, we should be experts by now. You bought goats."

"I did buy goats," Harry says. He shifts a little; his elbow is digging into Nick's spleen.

"Oh god," Nick says. "Did the goats see me fall?"

Harry leans down and kisses him. Nick makes a really unattractive startled noise. Harry pulls back.

"No," Nick says. "No, I mean—no, fuck, come here."

Harry grins and kisses him again.

God. God, it's been so _long_. Nick wraps his arms around Harry's waist and kisses him back.

Fuck, he's missed this. He's wet and feeling really bloody uncomfortable at this moment, but he's missed it.

It only lasts for a little bit, because there's the sound of hooves on wet grass, and Harry's scrambling up and away from Nick, trying to drag him up as well. Somehow they make it before Stinky arrives and eats them or summat. She looks disappointed that they got up, butts Nick in the knee—not hard, thank fuck—and runs back off. Harry's goats are weird.

"Shit," Harry says.

"Shit," Nick agrees. "We almost got eaten by a goat."

"What?" Harry asks. "No, Nick, you're—god, you're soaking wet."

Oh. Nick is, yeah. He's also startlingly cold now that he's up and Harry's no longer pressed up to him. Which is really quite disappointing. That last bit. The Harry bit. Nick's probably suffering from hypothermia. Or maybe that's just him. That's his brain.

"Come on," Harry says. "Let's get you inside before you die."

"Not going to die," Nick scoffs.

"You're going to freeze and die," Harry says. He reaches for Nick's arm.

They make it back to the house, and get Nick out of his muddy coat. Nick's hopping around, trying to get his wellies off, one arm braced on Harry's shoulder, when he stops and says, "Harry?"

"Yeah?" Harry asks.

Nick grips Harry's shoulder tighter, and Harry looks up at him. Nick leans in and kisses him. He still has one foot raised so he almost topples over, but Harry steadies him. When Nick pulls back, Harry's smiling.

"Uh," Nick says. "Hey."

Harry bites his lip, but keeps smiling. It makes him look chubby-cheeked and young, and lovely. Harry.

"Hi," Harry replies. "Get your trousers off, and go shower before you catch one of those Victorian era illnesses."

"That's what I was thinking," Nick says.

Harry leans up and kisses his cheek. Then he makes a face. "Muddy."

"Fuck you," Nick says. "You pushed me."

"It was an accident!" Harry says.

Nick grins. His face feels stupid. It does that often, around Harry.

"Go on," Harry says. "I'll get you tea ready."

"Right," Nick says. He pulls his welly off, and shuffles in the direction of the bathroom.

Right, then.

~

Nick's curled up in bed, dicking around on his phone. He knows Harry's already asleep, because Harry snores, a bit. It's cute. It's terrible.

Nick pulls up a new message to Daisy. _I fell in the mud today :(_

 _ha ha you poor thing <333_ is Daisy's reply. Nick can tell she's being sincere.

He dithers over it for a moment before he says, _I also kissed Harry_.

 _is that also a :(?_ Daisy asks carefully. 

Nick knows she's thinking about how he and Harry sort of left it off at this unsure point when Harry left for tour last time. The way they always do, really. Nick might have moped a bit. Mostly because he didn't know what to do or feel or what to do _with_ his feelings. Feelings were shit. The only thing he knew was that he cared about Harry terribly, like, proper in love sort of caring, and he was pretty sure Harry did, too, but Harry still had to leave.

 _idk_ Nick says. _it feels like a [heart-eye emoji, heart eye emoji, heart-eye emoji]_

 _oh, love,_ Daisy says.

_that's proper sweet_

_just look after yourself_

_and him_

Nick frowns, and switches over to Instagram. He hasn't posted any pictures of the farm yet. He hasn't been on his phone that much, either—only checking up on his emails and messages from family. Not because of a conscious decision; he's just been so tired every night. 

He scrolls through his camera roll and finds a picture he took that night of the tea Harry made him sitting next to a book called Goat Husbandry. He wonders briefly how private that is. The papers ran a story about Harry buying a farm a few weeks after it happened, but for once there weren't any details. No one probably suspects they're here right now. No one will know what the picture is about, except his family and friends, and Harry's family.

He quickly picks out a filter, slaps a fancy blur on it, and posts it with just a goat emoji as the caption. 

He sends Daisy back a purple heart and a star, sets his phone on the bedside table and turns over on his side so he's facing Harry. It's too dark to properly see his face, but he's wheezing softly, and giving off heat like a furnace. Nick falls asleep easily.

~

On Thursday, around two in the morning, Nick almost dies.

Well, he doesn't, really. Or not at all. Not nearly.

What happens is that he's asleep and then there's a loud crack, a jolt and a yell, and Nick is suddenly very much awake. And very confused. Extra confused when he realises the yell was probably him. And the crack was the bed. And that he's slowly slipping out of said bed.

"Nick?" Harry asks, while Nick flails around and tries not to fall to the floor. "Nick, what happened?"

Nick yelps again and stumbles out of the bed, taking his duvet with him.

"Nick?" Harry sounds scared now. Everything is dark.

"Fuck," Nick says. "I'm fine."

"What happened? What's going on?"

"I think—" Nick says. "Turn on the light, love."

He hears Harry go "oh," very quietly, like he's only just realised he has the power to do that, and then the bedside lamp is on and yeah, Nick's bed is broken. He can see that even without his glasses.

"I think the bed broke," Nick says.

"You broke the bed?" Harry sounds sleep-confused, and more calm now that he can see.

"No," Nick protests. "I didn't break anything. It _broke_. On its own."

"Okay," Harry says slowly. When Nick looks over at him he's staring at the bed, face screwed up in confusion. "I don't get it."

"The bed," Nick says, "is broken. It decided that I was too fucking heavy for it so it went and fucking _broke_." His voice keeps climbing. Probably he's freaking out a little. He feels like it's warranted.

Harry's eyes are wide now, and he's staring back at Nick. Nick wishes he would _do_ something.

"I almost _died_ ," Nick says, with a dramatic handwave. Not dramatic. Appropriate.

"No, you didn't," Harry says automatically, but he's getting out of bed now. Good. Nick's feet are getting cold. He pulls the duvet tighter around him.

Harry shuffles over to where Nick's standing and leans down to inspect the bed. The front leg on the left side has just _broken_ , like it was decaying or something. The entire bedframe is listing to one side.

Nick wants a cuddle. It's the middle of the night, it's dark and cold outside, and he's just been woken up by his bed breaking. He has no bed. 

"Wow," Harry says. "That's—it's really broken."

"Of course it's broken," Nick says. "Harry."

"Hey," Harry says, and turns towards Nick. He gently takes the duvet away from Nick and wraps his arms around him, covering them both with it. "It's okay."

"I broke the bed," Nick says sadly, face buried against Harry's curls.

"You didn't," Harry says. "It broke on its own. Did you get hurt?"

"No," Nick says, feeling petulant. He just had a bit of a shock.

"Good," Harry says. He presses a kiss to his cheek, and holds him a bit tighter. "Let's go back to sleep, yeah? Deal with it in the morning."

"Where?" Nick asks.

"Uh," Harry says, pulling back a little. "I guess...you could go sleep in the other single bed. Or you could stay here, and I could—" He cuts off abruptly, probably noticing how Nick's starting to look a bit panicky. "Right. Small double bed it is."

~

The room with the double bed is on the next floor, and it is _freezing_.

"Oh god, why is it so cold?" Nick asks. He dumps the duvet, sheets and pillows they took on the bed, and wraps his arms around himself.

"I haven't heated up this floor," Harry says. "It's not as cold as the ground floor was when I got here, at least."

"Are we going to die?" Nick asks. "We're going to freeze and die, aren't we?"

Harry doesn't answer. He looks sad. Nick frowns. 

"Hey," Nick says, and pokes Harry in the side. "What's wrong, love?"

"Nothing," Harry says. "Just—no, it's fine."

"Haz."

"I'm fine," Harry says. "Honest."

Nick brushes his cheeks, gently turns Harry's face so he can get a good look at him. Harry looks tired. Well, obviously he's tired, he got woken up in the middle of the night. Still. "Hey," Nick says.

Harry closes his eyes. "Let's just get the bed ready and go sleep. I'm knackered."

"Okay," Nick says quietly.

He'll let it go, for now. He'll see if it—whatever it is—is still bothering Harry in the morning, and then he'll—something. Get Harry to talk about it. Nick's not always the best at advice and being helpful and things. But he's good at Harry, he thinks.

They curl up in bed together, both to get some sort of warmth, and because the space is already small enough that's the only way to get properly comfortable.

They're both shivering a bit, at first, but Nick warms up quickly. It's the one time he's truly grateful for how Harry gives out heat like a furnace. He can tell Harry's still awake when he drifts off.

~

Harry seems off the next day. Nick leaves it till they're curled up on the sofa with Nick's computer, looking for the closest place where they can buy a bigger duvet and new bedsheets and a proper mattress for the double bed.

"Look, this place has quick delivery," Harry says.

"The delivery van will get lost on their way here," Nick says. "Let's just go to Next or summat. It's not that far."

"It's two hours," Harry says.

"No, it's one and a half," Nick says, pointing at the map. "There's a Waitrose near it. We needed to go shopping tomorrow anyway, right? Two birds, one stone, like. We can go right now and still make it back for tea."

Harry hums. "Maybe."

"Hey," Nick says, and gently nudges his shoulder. "You alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Harry says. "Why?"

"Wow," Nick says. "That sounded so convincing. I'm impressed by how honest you're being."

Harry pouts. Nick reaches out and pokes his cheek. Harry bats his hand away, but his mouth turns up in a smile. Success.

"Come on," Nick says. "Tell me?"

Harry sighs and looks up at the ceiling. "The house is going to need a lot of work."

"Well," Nick says. "Yeah."

"I mean." Harry rolls his eyes. "I knew that. Just. You know."

"You didn't expect the furniture to give up on us?"

"Yeah," Harry says. "That."

"Well, the sofa seems solid, at least," Nick says, and pats it. It creaks a bit. Harry's eyes go wide.

Nick bursts out laughing.

"It's not funny," Harry complains.

"Of course," Nick says. "No, seriously, Haz—it needs work. We knew that. One broken bed doesn't change anything. Especially considering how many we have."

"Yeah," Harry says. "I suppose."

"Right," Nick says. "Now come on, let's go to Next and get some new sheets."

They do that, and then they hit up Waitrose, and when they get back they make dinner together, all proper domestic. (Well, Harry makes the food, Nick supervises.) It reminds Nick of the summer before he got Breakfast; how he and Harry spent practically every day together. Nick remembers how much fun it was, how it _felt_ , all exciting and new, while still seeming like they could carry on forever.

It's different now. It's familiar, and comfortable, and it makes Nick feel all warm inside. He knows he gets all soppy, but he can't help it. They'll never have it as easy as they did back then. But, well. They're both here right now, aren't they?

"Is the food not good?" Harry asks.

Nick blinks. "What?"

"You're not eating," Harry points out. "You're staring at me. It'll go cold."

"Oh," Nick says, and turns back to his plate, feeling a bit off-kilter. "No, it's great. _Delicious_."

"You don't have to pretend," Harry frowns.

Nick chuckles. "I'm not. Why would I pretend? It's really good. I was just thinking."

"About what?" Harry asks, mouth full. He swallows and takes a sip of water, and licks his lips.

"Um," Nick says. "Wanting to kiss you?"

Harry pauses. He tilts his head. "Really?"

"Yes?" Nick asks. "I mean, no, I was thinking of—stuff. But now, yeah, I'm definitely thinking of that." He laughs a little, weirdly nervous. 

Harry's just looking at him. Then he grins. "You should, then."

"What, now?" Nick asks.

Harry blinks. "Yes?"

"But the food will go cold," Nick says. Harry stares at him for a minute, and then bursts out laughing. "And you worked _so_ hard on it," Nick says. "We can't let the food go cold, Harry."

"Oh my god," Harry wheezes. "You're such an idiot."

"Rude," Nick says. "See if I kiss you now."

"You will," Harry says, confident. Nick makes a face at him. Harry kicks his leg under the table.

"Hey," Nick protests. "Be nice."

"I'm always nice," Harry grins.

Nick shakes his head. "Terrible."

Harry pouts at him. Nick wants to kiss him. He also wants to tease him and make him laugh, and then he wants to make Harry's face go all soft and relaxed, and he really wants to fuck him. He's suddenly hit with how badly he wants all of it. Or maybe he's just really hungry. (God, the food really will go cold.)

"Eat faster," Harry says, like he's reading Nick's mind.

"But I want to enjoy this great meal," Nick says.

"Shut the fuck up," Harry says.

"I'm teasing," Nick says. "I love it, I do. It's just you're all distracting. Also it's just a tad too salty."

Harry's face falls. "It's not!"

"Well, maybe my plate is."

"You poured extra salt on it!" Harry says. "That's your fault."

"Oh," Nick says. "Shit."

Harry rolls his eyes. "Why do I even cook for you?"

"Because you love me," Nick says automatically. That's the usual response, isn't it?

Harry just sighs. "This is where I've laid my affections."

"Oh, what fancy phrases we've learnt."

"Honestly," Harry says, mouth twitching. "Shut up."

Nick takes an obnoxiously large bite and chews it. Harry just grins at him.

They manage to both finish their meals before they do get too cold, and they do the dishes together, and Harry goes to check on the stoves, and Nick tries to track down his glasses. His things have somehow ended up spread between the small room he left all his suitcases in, the room he and Harry slept in, the living room, the kitchen, and now their new room. It's weird how quickly that's happened.

It's _so_ domestic. Nick sort of loves it a ridiculous amount. He's thought about it a lot lately, about _wanting_ something like that, all proper and secure and stuff. A house and a nice garden and a dog and someone who'd know where he's put his glasses when he loses them.

It's just, he's always thought that someone should be Harry. Like, when he thinks about it, he pictures Harry, because he can't _not_. But Harry's always on the move, and they're best friends, and they snog and have sex, and all that, but if someone asks Nick if he has a boyfriend then, well, he says no. Because it's still not what they're _really_ like. Not properly.

Harry's already in the bedroom when Nick gets there, and he immediately breaks into a grin. "Hi."

Nick smiles, amused. "Hiya?"

Harry shuffles over—he's wearing his wool slippers—and comes to an expectant stop in front of Nick. "So?"

"So?" Nick repeats.

"Should we break in the new bed?" Harry asks.

"No," Nick says. "No breaking. I'm done with beds breaking."

Harry rolls his eyes, and leans in to kiss Nick. His hands clutch Nick's waist, and by the time he pulls back Nick feels more than a little breathless.

"I didn't say break," Harry says, licking his lip. Fuck. "I said break in. There's an important difference."

"Oh, is there?" Nick tries to quip. His knees feel a little weak. It's just—fuck, it's Harry. He's so close. They haven't done this in so long. God, Nick wants it.

"Yeah," Harry says. His eyes look a little hazy. Nick watches him swallow. "It—"

Nick cuts him off with a kiss.

Harry makes a pleased noise in the back of his throat and kisses back. Nick's hands go to Harry's shoulders as he somehow tries to pull him even closer. (He's missed this, he's missed this, he's missed this.)

"Hey," Nick says, when they break up apart briefly. "Wait."

"What?" Harry says, pausing with his nose touching Nick's neck.

"No, I mean, keep going there," Nick says. Harry presses his mouth to Nick's neck, and starts sucking determinedly enough that Nick can tell he's trying to leave a mark. Fuck.

"No, but," Nick tries to say. "Just. Haven't we already slept in the bed? Shouldn't breaking in happen, like, the first—"

"Oh god, Nick," Harry groans. "Stop. I'm trying to seduce you."

"Seduce me?" Nick laughs. "Is it going well?"

"Shut up," Harry mutters, and pulls back. "See if I blow you now."

"Aw," Nick says, making a sad face. "But now I really want you to blow me."

Harry stares at him, expression suspicious, but he can't keep it up for long before breaking. His eyes crinkle up and he _smiles_ and Nick really has to stop thinking about how much he's missed Harry when he's _right here_.

Harry drags him down for another kiss, and starts walking them both towards the bed. He's going backwards, though, so he stumbles, naturally, and almost takes them both down. Nick steadies him as best he can, hands a little shaky already, laughing into Harry's mouth.

That's the thing with having sex with Harry. It's often sort of ridiculous.

"Stop laughing," Harry complains, giggling himself. "This is very serious."

"Of course," Nick says, trying for a very serious face. "A very serious affair."

"It's not an _affair_ ," Harry mock-gasps, and pinches Nick's side. "Also you're wearing too many clothes."

"Like you're not wearing _slippers_ ," Nick says. Harry rolls his eyes, and kicks the slippers off, then goes to pull off his sweater. It makes his hair stand up on end, fluffy around his face. It's fucking adorable.

"Stop staring," Harry demands. "And get your kit off. Please."

"Oh, _please_?" Nick asks. "How polite of you."

"I'm always polite," Harry grins, undressing quickly.

"Always," Nick says, and starts to take his trousers off. "Always charming. Out there seducing everyone, aren't you?"

Harry looks down at that. "Maybe."

"Oh, you definitely are," Nick says.

Harry shakes his head and steps closer. He's only in his pants now, his chest bare and covered in goosebumps. He reaches for Nick's shirt and helps Nick pull it off. "Don't care about anyone else right now," he says softly. Nick swallows hard.

Harry takes Nick's glasses off and gently lays them on the bedside table. Everything goes slightly blurry, but it's okay. Nick's pretty sure he's memorised Harry's face.

Harry pulls Nick in for a kiss, slow and relaxed, his hand travelling down from Nick's chest and resting on his belly. Stuff like that usually makes Nick itch to pull back and make some sort of self-deprecating joke. It's different with Harry, though. Nick's not sure why, but everything about this is different with Harry. (Must be love, he thinks wildly.)

"Hey," Harry murmurs. "I actually really do want to blow you."

"Fuck," Nick says, and wraps his arms around Harry's shoulders. He's broader than he used to be, more muscles and definition. He still smiles just the same way, though, and when the fuck did Nick start thinking soppy shit like that?

It's not like Nick's the same he was years ago, either. For one thing, he's even more gone for Harry. Also he's probably fitter, he thinks. His hair's better. Definitely that. His legs have always been good. He should probably start his Ibiza workout soon, though. Get proper fit for the summer and all.

"Nick?" Harry asks, pulling back.

Oh. "Sorry," Nick says. "I got distracted. Did you say something?"

Harry looks amused, his eyebrows raised. "Distracted by what?"

"How fit you are?"

Harry laughs. "Really? Didn't look like it."

"Soz," Nick says, wincing now. "I'm totally here. I'm with you. I'm like, ready to go."

Harry's properly giggling now. "Oh my god, your attention span is the worst." Nick goes to make a half-hearted protest, but before he gets the chance to Harry reaches down and squeezes his dick. Okay. That's definitely one way to get Nick to focus. On his dick. And Harry's hand. Fuck.

"Hi," Harry says, grinning.

"Fuck," says Nick.

"That's exactly what I was thinking!"

"Shut up," Nick says weakly. "God."

"You look sort of faint," Harry says. He gently pats Nick's dick, like it's a friend or something. Jesus. "I think you should lie down."

"Very smooth," Nick says. So what if his voice comes out a little choked.

Harry huffs and grabs Nick's shoulders, and moves him over to the bed, pushing him down. The bed creaks under Nick as he falls. Nick freezes for a second.

Before he has time to start worrying about another bed breaking—and god, he's going to get a complex from this, isn't he—Harry's joined him, and is pulling Nick's pants off.

Harry is still excellent at blowjobs.

It's not like Nick had forgotten. He had faith, really. It's just nice to have it confirmed.

Nick really needs for his brain to shut up.

Harry does something intense with his tongue right then though, and suddenly it's easy for Nick to concentrate.

"Nick," Harry mumbles, pulling off for a moment. "Hair."

"Oh, fuck," Nick says, and tangles his fingers in Harry's curls, pulling a little, guiding. Harry likes it, always has, especially when Nick tugs just a bit too hard.

Harry moans around Nick's dick, and Nick groans in response, feeling his stomach tighten. He's really close.

"Oh!" Harry says, pulling back. "You should come on my stomach. Please?"

"Fuck," Nick says. "Fuck, yeah, okay."

Harry grins up at him, his lips all wet and swollen. Jesus fuck. Then he purses his mouth, and looks contemplative. "Um, should we—"

"Move," Nick suggests?

They flail around a bit, trying to switch positions. Harry squawks as he almost falls off the bed, and grabs onto Nick's arm, fingers digging in hard. Nick starts laughing, and Harry pouts, and he's still laughing, even when he's on top of Harry and slowly jerking himself off.

Harry's spread out, looking up at Nick with glazed eyes, and god, he's hard just from blowing Nick, and he's _waiting_ for Nick to come on him. Nick is so, so gone for him.

"Do you need help?" Harry asks, mouth curving up into a smile. His chest is all flushed, and his hair's a mess from Nick pulling on it.

"Nah," Nick chokes out. "Just stay right there."

Harry goes still, and breathes in deep, belly quivering. He's hard, but he's not touching himself yet. He's just waiting. Yeah, Nick's close.

"Nick," Harry whispers, and stupidly, that's just what pushes Nick over the edge. He comes all over Harry's stomach, breathing heavily, and rests his forehead against Harry's chest when he's done. Harry covers the back of his neck with his hand, squeezing.

Nick stays like that for a moment, just breathing. "Nick," Harry nudges him after a bit. "Nick, need to come, please."

Nick's probably never going to get over Harry saying "please".

"Right," Nick says, pulling back. "Right, do you want—"

"Your hands," Harry says. "Fuck, Nick, your hands, please."

Nick slumps over to the side and wraps his fingers around Harry's dick, getting him off quick, no finesse. Harry doesn't mind. Harry's coming in no time, spilling over Nick's fingers and his own belly, streaking across the dark ink of his tattoos. He drags Nick into a kiss when he can breathe properly again, lazy and soft. 

Nick wouldn't mind staying here forever. Just him and Harry in bed, all the time. Surely they won't miss anything important. Surely there's nothing that else could be important enough to give this up.

Eventually though, after they've stopped kissing and are both just lying there tangled together, one of his arms starts to feel numb from being curved beneath him. Besides, he should probably really do something about the mess they're in.

Nick sighs and pushes himself up on his arms, and ow, yes, pins and needles. Always fun; especially after sex. He flops his arm around, trying to get the feeling to stop. Harry cracks one eye open, and stares at him. "What are you doing?"

"Killed my arm," Nick says.

"Stop," Harry says, and yawns. "Come here and cuddle."

Nick makes a face. "Hot."

"Yes," Harry deadpans. "I'm very hot."

"Shut up," Nick says, and gives him a kiss. "Also, gross. Fluids everywhere."

"You love it," Harry says.

"Maybe," Nick says. "No, but shower." He has fond memories of showering with Harry together at his flat. Always a good time, that.

"Mmm," Harry says. "No."

"Come with me," Nick says, poking Harry in the stomach, right at the spot where their come is drying. Gross. Sort of hot, but mostly gross. "Come shower."

"Mhm," Harry says, eyes closing. "Can't. 'S too small."

"That's it," Nick says. "You have to remodel the bathroom, too."

Harry cracks a smile at that, but he goes a bit tense, too.

"I was kidding," Nick says. "Just a joke, love."

"No," Harry says. "Think you're right. It's just—need to think about it."

"Well, not right now," Nick says, and presses another kiss to his lips. "Later."

"Yeah," Harry sighs. "Later." His expression is relaxed again. He's going to nod off any moment, Nick knows. He's already half asleep.

"Hey," Nick says. "Did I tell you how much I love it here?"

Harry smiles softly. "Love," he mumbles. "Love hearing that."

Nick chuckles. "That's good, then."

"Mhm," Harry says, and buries his face in the pillow. Nick runs a hand over his curls, just watching him for a bit. "Creepy," Harry mutters.

"Very," Nick agrees. "I'm not here. I'm a ghost. Oh, extra creepy."

Harry laughs, muffled against the pillow. "Shut up. Idiot."

Nick kisses his hair, and stands up. By the time he gets back from the bathroom with a wet flannel, Harry's already long asleep.

~

They go up to Mary's on Friday for a visit. Her place is lovely; she has a huge garden, a gorgeous little house, a proper barn, and two dogs who immediately run up to them. It takes a while for Nick and Harry to move past the dogs, but eventually it starts raining so they all troop inside.

Mary sits them in the living room first, next to a fireplace, and brings out sweets and photo albums. Nick _loves_ looking at other people's photo albums; it's always great to see that his family isn't the only embarrassing one.

It's nice to talk to someone about more than just your work—Harry's already heard a lot about Mary's family, of course, so he spends more time looking at the pictures and pointing out the fun ones, while Nick listens to Mary's life story and tells her about his own family.

"It's really great to hear that you both have such supportive families," Mary says.

"Oh," Harry says, happily, "did I tell you my mum's coming by tomorrow? You should come down to meet her. Or, I mean, maybe we can—"

"Oh, love, you can absolutely come up here," Mary says. "It'd be great."

Harry grins. "Great."

"Anyway, if you're done with that, then we should go into the kitchen," Mary says. "I have a treat for you."

Harry's eyes light up, and Nick has to bite the inside of his cheek to stop from laughing out loud.

The treat is milk.

"Oh!" Harry says. "Goat milk?"

"And cow milk," Mary says. "Thought we could see how well you boys tell the difference."

"Oh, you have cows, too?"

"Oh, yeah," Mary says. "You could come by one day when I'm milking them."

Harry shoots Nick a grin across the kitchen table. "We'd love to. Right?"

"Yeah, of course," Nick agrees, because really, what else can he say?

"Good, good," Mary says. "Now, try this."

There's probably _some_ sort of difference between cow's milk and goat's milk, but Nick can't put his finger on it. He thinks the goat milk might be a tad richer, but every time he compares his taste buds just get more confused. It's good, though. Milky. It's milk.

"Now tell me," Mary asks, "how are you dealing with Emma and Abby?"

Nick snorts and quickly tries to hide it with a cough when he realises Harry still hasn't told her they've renamed the goats. Harry made Nick promise to not call them by their names while Mary was visiting—"just in case".

He lets Harry handle the goat talk and takes the opportunity to look around the kitchen, and steal some biscuits from the tin—with permission, once Mary spots him, hand hovering over them. It's always great to watch Harry interact with people. 

Actually, it's always great to watch Harry, full stop. Nick can't wait to get back home so he can spread Harry out on their bed and show him exactly how much Nick appreciates him. Well, after they check up on the goats, that is.

They're almost ready to leave when Nick's stomach starts complaining. He squirms in his seat for a bit, trying to find a more comfortable position, before just leaning back and wrapping his arms around himself.

It only takes a minute for Harry to notice. "Hey," he asks. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Nick says. His stomach gurgles quietly and he winces. Ow.

"Are you sure?" Harry asks, brow furrowed. "You look pale. Or, well, a bit green, actually."

Nick laughs a little, and presses one hand more firmly against his belly. "Yeah. Well, uh—"

"Wait," Harry says, staring at their empty glasses. "Nick. You're lactose intolerant."

"Well," Nick says. "Uh. Yeah."

"Oh dear," says Mary.

~

"Is this the worst holiday ever?" Harry asks.

Nick's laid out on the sofa, head in Harry's lap. Harry's idly playing with Nick's hair, tugging his curls on occasion. There's a fire in the hearth, and Nick feels comfortable and, well—at home, actually.

"Why would it be the worst?" Nick asks.

"Well," Harry says, and slips his other hand on Nick's stomach. It's nice. Nick doesn't always like cuddling, but he's relishing in it right now. "Well, first of all, the rain. The mud. You ruining your boots."

Ah, yes, there was an incident with goat poo the other day.

"You ruining your coat."

Same incident.

"You almost dying when your bed broke."

"I didn't almost die," Nick says, even though he'd acted like it back then. He didn't even get hurt.

"And now you're _sick_ ," Harry says. He sounds so sad about it.

Nick covers Harry's hand with his and tangles their fingers together, squeezing.

"I'm fine," he says. "Really." He is, after a couple of trips to the bathroom, and some pitiful moaning to Harry that he might have played up just a bit for belly rubs. A bit sore maybe, but fine.

"Are you sure?" Harry asks. He sounds all worried, still.

"Of course," Nick says. "'S just a stomach upset, love, I'm okay."

Harry makes a sad sound and pets Nick's stomach. Nick hums.

"Is this stupid?" Harry asks.

Nick frowns. "What?"

"This whole thing."

Nick cranes his head back to look at him. Harry's staring at the fire, looking upset. His hand is still idly petting Nick's belly.

"Why would you say that?" Nick asks carefully.

Harry shrugs.

"Haz," Nick says, and nudges at Harry's chest with his head. "Come on, we talked about this, didn't we? It's going to take work, but that doesn't mean it's hopeless."

"Yeah," Harry says quietly. He sighs. "Just—you haven't had a terrible time here, have you?"

"No," Nick says immediately. "No, love, of course not."

"I just wanted something nice," Harry says. Nick can see him swallow hard. "Something I could, like, put work into, and it would benefit more than just me?"

Nick strokes his hand. "Were you going to get a herd of cows and give their milk away for free or summat?"

Harry pouts. "Maybe. But I read dairy cows do better in the south, so."

"So much for that," Nick says gently.

"Yeah," Harry sighs. "I mean, I know this is, like, such a ridiculous idea, you know? It just—it seemed nice."

"It is nice," Nick says. "It's a nice idea."

"I really like it here," Harry says. He sounds sad about it.

"Same," Nick says. "I love it here, actually."

Harry chews on his lip. He doesn't seem convinced.

"Hey," Nick says, and reaches a hand up to tug at Harry's hair. "Hey, look at me." Harry does, and Nick gives him a smile. "Hey."

Harry huffs out a laugh. "Hi."

"It is nice here," Nick says. "And you weren't stupid to buy this place, okay? You just rushed into it, a bit, and now we have to work out the other details."

Harry's staring at him, his eyes soft and full of something Nick can't entirely name. He thinks it's echoed in his own expression, though.

Nick licks his lips and drags Harry down for a kiss. The angle is awkward at best, but when Harry pulls back he doesn't look as haunted anymore. He's smiling, even. Nick grins back.

"Thanks," Harry says.

"Are you thanking me for kissing you?" Nick asks. "Because that's weird."

Harry rolls his eyes. "Shut up."

"How dare you," Nick says comfortably. "I'm wounded here. Actually wounded."

"You're not wounded," Harry says, giving Nick's stomach a quick pat. "Come on, let's go to bed. Mum's coming early in the morning."

"Oh!" Nick says, excited now. "Of course, we have to be all proper and rested for Anne. Mustn't make a bad impression. We're proper farmers, right, up at five."

Harry's smile grows wider. He helps Nick to sit up, and then throws his arms around him for a hug. "You know I really love you, right?"

Nick's stomach goes all warm and swirly, and it's not from the dairy. God. He does know. It's not the first time Harry's told him. It's not like Nick hasn't blurted it out when drunk or just when happy and with his usual guards down, either. They're best friends, they love each other. Of course they do.

Just, the fact is, Nick is probably also _in_ love with Harry, like, the proper sort. Or, well, he definitely is. And on most days, especially on days when Harry is actually _there_ , he's pretty sure Harry feels the same.

Nick wonders if they should maybe talk about that at some point, too. About what it means, if it does mean something.

Probably. They probably should.

"Nick?"

Nick swallows hard and presses a kiss to the corner of Harry's mouth before pulling back. "I know," he says. Harry's still smiling. (It's enough, for now.)

~

They fall asleep cuddled up together that night, too, with Harry rubbing small circles on Nick's belly.

Nick wakes up a couple of hours later, overheated and cranky. Harry put on a proper fire in the stove that evening, and the room is stiflingly hot, and Harry's clinging to him like a bloody octopus.

Nick tries to wiggle away from him, but Harry makes this odd noise that's something between a groan and a whine, and his hold on Nick tightens. Of course. Nick's back is sweating.

"Harry," he tries quietly. "Haz."

Harry mumbles something. Nick's not sure if that means he's awake or not.

"Harry, I'm melting," Nick says. "I'm going to melt and die and, like, suffocate."

Harry makes a distressed sound. Oh, great, Nick's probably giving him nightmares.

"Hey," Nick says, and covers Harry's hand with his own, gently patting it. "Can you move just a bit, love?"

He's still not sure if Harry's actually conscious, but miraculously, it works, and Harry lets Nick push his hand away. Nick breathes a bit easier.

The bed's too small to put any real distance between them, but Nick tries. He turns to his other side instead, so he's facing Harry, and pulls the duvet down, so his shoulders and back are out. It's a bit better.

His knees are touching Harry's knees, and Harry's hand has somehow found its way to Nick's stomach, like it's instinct for him now at this point. Nick huffs out a breath, but—well, it's actually nice, that amount of contact. He closes his eyes, and listens to Harry breathe.

It feels like Nick's only been asleep for a minute when he feels the touch of someone's hand in his hair, and hears his name.

"Hey," Harry says. "Hey, Grim. Nick."

"No," Nick mumbles.

"I'm getting up," Harry says. "I'm going downstairs, Mum will be here soon."

Nick blinks his eyes open. Harry's sitting on the bed next to him, combing his fingers through Nick's hair. "What?" Nick asks.

"Mum will be here soon. I'm going downstairs, I'll make breakfast and stuff."

"Too early," Nick complains. He can't keep his eyes open.

"You can stay here and sleep," Harry says.

Nick huffs out a breath and buries his face in the pillow. "Why'd you wake me, then?" he asks, muffled.

"So you'd know where I've gone," Harry says. Nick thinks he feels the touch of Harry's lips to his cheek. He's back asleep the next moment.

He wakes properly to Harry opening the door and stumbling over one of Nick's shoes.

"Mph?" Nick asks, pushing himself up on his elbows. "What's happening?"

"It's almost nine," Harry says. "Here." He places a coffee cup on the bedside table. Nick is so in love with him. It's like now that he properly thought about it once he can't stop. Terrible.

"Is Anne here?" Nick asks, reaching for his glasses.

"Yeah, we already had breakfast."

Nick gasps. "Without _me_?"

"You were asleep!" Harry says. "I thought I'd let you sleep after yesterday, you haven't had a proper rest in a while."

Nick rolls his eyes. "I usually get up at half five in the morning, love, I'm used to it."

"That doesn't count," Harry says. "Go on, drink your coffee, and then get downstairs. Mum wants to inspect the garden."

"There's nothing in the garden," Nick says.

"She wants to see if it has _potential_."

Nick squints at him. "Are you nervous?"

Harry shifts on his feet. "Maybe. A bit. What if she hates it?"

"She's not going to hate it," Nick says, and blows on his coffee. It makes his glasses fog up, ugh. When he looks up Harry is staring at him, expression unreadable. There's a beat before he looks away.

"Anyway," Harry says. "We left you waffles under the plate. Don't—take too long, please?"

Nick smiles at him. "Go on," he says. "It'll be fine. I'll be out as soon as I can, yeah."

Harry nods, and rushes off.

Nick takes a sip of his coffee and almost burns his tongue. Of course.

~

Harry and Anne are looking at the broken greenhouse when Nick gets outside.

"This is really the worst of it," Harry's saying. "Well, uh, and the barn, but—"

"Anne!" Nick calls, excited to see her again.

She turns around fast, already smiling wide. "Nick, love, how are you?"

"I'm good," Nick says, and accepts her hug. "I'm great, me. You? How was the drive?"

"It was lovely," Anne says.

"Didn't get lost?"

"Nick got lost twice," Harry puts in helpfully. Nick makes a face at him; Anne laughs.

"No, I didn't have any troubles at all," she says, still smiling, a wicked glint in her eye. She's so much like Harry. Well, Harry is so much like her, really.

Nick smiles. "Well, I'm sorry I wasn't up to have breakfast with you."

"Oh, that's okay, Harry said you needed a bit of rest."

"Did I miss much?" Nick asks. "What's happening? Has Harry showed you our goats yet?"

He wonders briefly if he can call them _their_ goats, but Harry doesn't protest, so Nick's going to roll with it.

"I _have_ seen the goats, yes," Anne says. "They're wonderful. The garden is less so."

"The garden isn't ready yet," Harry says. "We haven't done anything in the garden at all."

"We've been mostly focused on the house," Nick adds. They've been cleaning out the rooms and looking over the furniture, deciding what needs to get replaced first. "Did you get a tour of that? Harry, you gave her a tour, right?"

"Not properly," Harry says. "She wanted to see the garden first."

"I sort of insisted," Anne says. She gives the greenhouse another disappointed look. "Well, that needs to be dealt with at some point, obviously. Can't just have it lying here like that."

"I _know_ , Mum," Harry says. "Come on, let's finally go check out the house. You haven't even seen the living room."

"The living room is the best," Nick says.

"Oh, very well then," Anne sighs. "We can look at the barn later."

Harry gets a pained look on his face. Nick throws an arm around his shoulder. "Of course," he says. "And then we can go and feed the goats."

The corners of Anne's mouth quirk up. "Sounds lovely, dear."

Harry smiles.

~

Anne likes the house. Nick can tell that Harry's worried about it, even though he's clearly also excited to show his mum around, but overall Anne seems to be just as charmed as Nick was when he first got here. A bit apprehensive, but still charmed.

She also insists that the garden has a lot of potential and could probably be priority number three, after the goats and the house. Nick can see her point; they haven't given the garden that much attention, but with some work it could all be really nice.

In the late afternoon they finally go to check out the rest of the land Harry bought. There's a lot of it. It's abandoned right now, but Nick can easily picture it carrying crops and stuff. He can picture cows and sheep, and, well, a lot of stuff, if Harry decides to go for it. It seems easy to imagine, with the spring sun beating down on them and birds chirping.

It doesn't seem like it'll be easy to achieve, though. There's so much land. There's so many things to consider. Harry looks proud, but also sort of overwhelmed.

Nick pulls him in against his side and squeezes his waist. "You alright, love?"

"It looked smaller on the map," Harry says. "How could it look smaller on the map?" He sounds confused.

"Well," Nick says. "Things usually do look smaller on maps. They're not, you know. Life-sized."

Harry chokes out a laugh, and leans his head against Nick's shoulder. "Shut up. What do you think, Mum?"

Anne has her arms crossed, looking considering. "I think we all have a bit of research to do," she says. "But I think you should also concentrate on the house, first."

"And the garden," Harry says.

She gives him a proper mum look and pinches his cheek. "Yes, and the garden."

Harry laughs and bats her away. Nick loves that he seems lighter, and less worried.

It's later when he and Anne are feeding the goats while Harry's inside fixing them their tea, that Anne sighs and asks, "How does it really look here, Nick? Because—well, it looks like a lot of hard, long work."

Nick shrugs, and gives Smelly one of the carrots straight from the sack. "You've seen most of it, you know? What do you think?"

Anne sighs. "It looks like it's going to need a lot of attention. A lot of time put into it."

"But it's doable, right?" Nick asks. "People do stuff like this."

"Well, of course," Anne says. "With time and money and effort, of course."

Nick chews on his lip. "He doesn't really have time right now."

"No," Anne says. "He's leaving for LA again soon. Did he tell you that?"

"Like, a couple of weeks away, was it?" Nick asks.

"A few days after your holiday is over."

"Oh." Nick didn't know it was so soon. Harry had said something vague, so Nick had assumed it wasn't looming up on him. He only got a break.

"It's a lovely idea he had," Anne says. "But I can't help but think he rushed into it without really thinking much about it."

Nick sighs and watches Stinky butt up against Smelly, doing her quiet goat noises, the ones when that Nick thinks mean she wants attention right _now_ , please.

"He really wants this," he says. "I think he feels stupid sometimes that he rushed into it, but he wants to make it work."

"Yes, I can see that," Anne says. "But is it just stubbornness, do you think? You know how he gets sometimes. Is this something he really _needs_? Or is it just a project? Something to fill his time with when he's not working?"

"I think," Nick says carefully, "it's a project that he needs."

Anne sighs. "I was afraid you'd say that."

Nick shrugs apologetically. "He told me he just needed something for himself. But also something selfless. I think he probably dreamt of fixing this place up and, like, making it useful for other people, too."

Anne nods. "That's definitely Harry."

"Sorry," Nick says. "Just—hasn't he talked to you about this?"

Anne pulls up the rickety chair Nick's always afraid will break under him, and sits down. "He told me he bought a farm, that he was coming to England for a few weeks for a break, and that you were going to join him. He said it needed a lot of work, but he was excited about it. I suppose it was just hard for me to see exactly _why_ he'd decided to do this."

"It fits, though," Nick says. "Like. If you think about it, this is exactly something that he'd do. I only assumed he'd, like, do it in America or something."

"Yeah," Anne says, smiling a little. "At least it's here, then. It's so good to have him close again, even for a little while."

Nick lets out a breath. Smelly trots up to him and noses at his trousers. "Yeah," Nick says quietly. "It is."

~

It's only after dinner that Nick realises that he and Harry sleep in _the same bed_. And Harry's _mum_ is here.

"I'm getting pretty tired, love," Anne says, while Nick and Harry are doing the dishes. "I think I'm going to shower and go to bed."

"Oh, yeah," Harry says. "You can take the room we put Nick's stuff in at first. I've heated it up, it should be really warm. I moved your things there already."

"Lovely," Anne says. "And you are—"

"We'll be in the double bed upstairs," Harry says.

"My bed broke," says Nick, in a rush.

Harry gives him a weird look. It's not that Nick doesn't think Harry's talked about him with Anne—Harry talks to his mum about _everything_. It's just. Weird. A bit weird. Maybe not really as weird as it should be, because Anne's great. She's amazing. Still. She's Harry's _mum_.

"Anyway," Harry says, just as Anne says, "Your bed _broke_?"

"Yes!" Nick says. "It just collapsed. Was tired of carrying all that extra weight, I suppose."

Anne rolls her eyes and Harry groans. "Nick, dear, you are perfect," she says.

"Any bed would be lucky to have you," Harry jokes.

"That sounds so wrong," Nick says.

"I think it sounds right," Harry says, frowning.

"I think," Anne says, "that I'm exhausted. Harry?"

"Oh, yeah," Harry says. "Let me show you to your room, milady."

She smiles at Harry, fond, and gives Nick a quick goodnight kiss on the cheek. They disappear upstairs and Nick stays in the kitchen to put the dishes away. He does the rounds downstairs before locking the front door, and goes up to their room.

Harry's already on the bed, propped up against pillows, his notebook out.

"Hey," Nick says.

"Hey," Harry replies, sounding distracted. He's quiet all the while Nick gets undressed and joins him in bed. He's not really writing in the notebook, except for an occasional doodle.

Nick's already settled down and closed his eyes, when Harry asks, "What did Mum say?"

Nick opens his eyes again. The bedside lamp is weak and it casts light shadows on the wall. "What?" Nick asks.

Harry turns towards him. "When you were feeding the goats. You were talking about me, weren't you?"

"Well," Nick says. "Yes?"

"What about?" Harry asks. He sounds sulky about it.

Nick can see this needs a bit of careful handling. He's not the best at that. Still, he sits up as well, and puts his glasses on so he can read Harry's face better.

"We talked about the house," Nick says. "And the land. About how it needs a bit of work."

"I know that," Harry says. "I know it needs work."

"Well," Nick says carefully. "What's wrong, then?"

Harry frowns, and looks away. "Just—you don't need to talk about it behind my back or anything. You can talk to me. She can talk to me."

"We didn't say anything you don't know or haven't heard from her," Nick says. "It's not like we're plotting or something. She doesn't want to talk you out of it."

Harry chews on his lip. "Promise?"

"Of course," Nick says, and scoots closer to Harry on the bed. "She just wanted to talk about you. You know how mums are."

Harry shrugs. "I suppose."

Nick tugs on his arm and Harry tilts into him, leaning his head on Nick's shoulder.

"Your shoulder is too bony," Harry says.

"You've never complained before."

Harry huffs, but doesn't move. He feels all tense and a bit upset, so Nick rubs his arm to calm him.

"You know," Nick says carefully. "She was pretty worried about you when you were in LA."

"I know," Harry says, voice quiet. "I wish she didn't."

"You wish she didn't worry?" Nick asks. "Sorry, love, she's a mum. She's always going to."

Harry sighs, and runs his hands over his face. "I _know_ ," he says. "Everyone thought I was, like, being overworked."

"Actually, I think they thought you were overworking yourself," Nick says. He remembers how Harry sounded off sometimes during his phonecalls; how his texts were sparse on some weeks. He seemed unsettled. "You sounded a bit sad sometimes, love."

"Maybe," Harry says. "I don't know. I didn't think I was working too hard or anything. I think—maybe I missed home? Or just needed a change or summat."

"Yeah, that could be it," Nick says, encouraging.

"Do you think I work too much?" Harry looks at Nick at that, eyes wide, like he's begging Nick to say, "No," but still wants Nick to be honest.

Nick bites his lip. "I think everyone could use a break sometimes. Even you."

"I'm on a break right now," Harry says. "Proper holiday, right? I'm resting."

"Can you?" Nick asks. "Like, I don't think you can, really."

Harry frowns. "What? Why? What do you mean?"

"I don't know," Nick says. "I mean, I got here and you had bought _goats_. It sort of looked to me like you were just taking all your energy and putting it somewhere besides work, but, well. Still work."

"Where else am I supposed to put my energy?" Harry asks.

"Resting?" Nick asks, trying for a light-hearted tone. Harry opens his mouth as if to argue, but Nick's quick to cut him off. "But I think that's what you are doing. Like, in your own way. It's just, you could have chosen a fancy, done up farmhouse, and gone on holiday for two weeks and just done nothing. Instead there's—well, this."

"But I like this place," Harry says. He sounds awfully petulant. And tired and a bit sad. That's not what Nick meant to do, he didn't mean to make Harry sad.

"No, I know," Nick says. "That's just—it's you, you know? You like working hard and doing all these things. You need it. It just looked like it started to wear on you this time. Like you needed a break. And this is, well. Sort of perfect for you, innit? Like. Of course you bought goats. Of course you would have bought a whole herd of cows if you could've."

It's sort of quintessentially Harry, really. And it's good for him. Nick can see it in the way he is, when he's not worried about the future of the place. It's in the way he smiles when he's working, and the way he _looks_ at the place around him. It was a good idea. Nick's so glad he's here to see it.

He realises Harry hasn't said anything, and looks over towards him.

Harry's staring at him, eyes wide and full of—something. He blinks fast, and then leans in and kisses Nick.

Nick wraps his arms around Harry's waist and sinks into the kiss, eyes falling shut. When Harry pulls back his mouth is red, and his eyes are just a bit damp.

"Hey," Nick says, and ghosts his thumb over Harry's cheek. "What is it?"

"Nothing," Harry says, shaking his head. He smiles. "Just. You get it."

Nick smiles back, feeling something swell in his belly. God, he's so fond of this boy.

Harry kisses him again, and then he's climbing on top of Nick, and oh, no, no, wait.

"Oh my god," Nick says, a hand on Harry's chest to keep him back. "No. No, we can't."

Harry pouts at him, but underneath he actually seems a bit upset.

Nick tugs on his curls. "Not with your _mum_ here, Haz, come on."

"She's on the other floor," Harry says.

"Her room is right under ours."

"Oh," Harry says, and starts to grin. "Oh. Okay, so, maybe not, yeah."

"Such an idiot," Nick says.

"Hey," Harry complains, and kisses Nick's throat. Nick brushes Harry's hair back from his forehead and presses his lips to it. They fall asleep like that, Harry lying on top of Nick. Nick pushes him off in the middle of the night, but he still wakes with Harry's hand covering his heart.

~

Anne leaves early on Monday morning. She pulls Nick aside before she goes, gives him a tight hug, and says, "Look after him, love."

"I will," Nick promises. "Of course I will."

He wants to say that Harry's okay, and that he's _Harry_ , he knows how to deal with a lot of things, but this is Anne. Of course she's always going to worry. Of course she'll want people to look after her baby.

Anne gives him a sweet smile. "I know you will. I just needed to say it."

"I know," Nick says. "Mums worry."

She laughs lightly. "Yes. That we do. Anyway, call me if you need anything, as always."

"Of course," Nick says. "He knows that too, you know."

She gives him another hug. Harry wanders over and pouts at them until they both laugh, and pull him into the hug as well.

They stand side by side when they watch Anne drive off. As soon as she's gone, Harry grabs Nick's hand, tugs him into a quick kiss, and says, " _Now_ we can have sex."

Nick laughs. "You mean, after we check if the goats have enough water, and—"

Harry takes off towards the shed at an exaggerated run. He falls, of course. He doesn't really get hurt, so they count it as a win. Neither of them can stop laughing.

~

On Wednesday the goats escape.

They don't get very far, because luckily Nick is in the yard when it happens. One minute he's trying to figure out the best angle to take a picture of the shed door he helped fix earlier. The next minute, Stinky and Smelly are running past him, heading for the main road.

"Fuck," Nick curses. "Harry!"

He dashes after the goats, running as fast as he possibly can while wearing wellies and trying not to slip in the mud.

Thankfully, for some reason the goats turn back before actually reaching the road, and run into the blackberry bushes instead. By the time Harry gets there, Nick's managed to scare them out of the bushes and back near the house. When they see Harry coming, though, they dart to the right and run for the shed, heading past it, past their pen and out into the open field.

Harry starts after them, but he goes down with a yelp on the spot near the shed corner where the mud never seems to disappear. 

"Harry!" Nick rushes over as fast as he can. He's wheezing by the time he gets to Harry. Fuck. "Are you okay?"

Harry's sprawled out on the ground, trying to catch his breath. "Uhuh," he says. Then he waves his arms and legs around, like he's making a mud angel. Gross. "The goats?"

Nick looks up. The goats have stopped and are eating grass. Of course. "They're fine."

"How—" Harry asks, struggling to get upright. "How did they get out?"

"I don't know," Nick says, and offers his arm to pull Harry up. They don't fall down this time. Progress.

"Did you leave the gate open?" Harry asks.

"No," Nick says, affronted.

"Did you leave the shed door open from the other side?"

"No. Did you?"

"No," Harry says. "Wow."

"Did you hurt yourself?" Nick asks. "When you fell?"

"No, I'm good," Harry says. "Wait, no, I think I did."

"What?" Nick asks, horror making his stomach go cold. Oh god. "What is it, what hurts?"

"My mouth," Harry says. "I think you need to kiss it better."

"Oh my god," Nick says, while Harry giggles. "Haz, I thought you'd really hurt yourself."

Harry grins at him. "But I did." He purses his lips, looking ridiculous. Nick loves him, he loves him.

"No," he says, and firmly shakes his head. "No, that was a terrible joke."

Harry throws his arms around Nick's shoulders and clings. "But Niiick, it wasn't a joke."

"Oh no," Nick gasps. "The goats are running off."

Harry starts, and pulls away fast, making an aborted move to go after them. He stops when he sees they're still milling around, just enjoying the grass. "I hate you," he says.

"That," Nick says. "That's what your joke was like."

"My joke was nice!" Harry says. "It wasn't mean like yours. It was a set-up for a kiss! That's the best kind."

"Yours almost gave me a heart attack. Mine just meant we should have done a bit more running."

Harry pouts. Then he laughs, suddenly. "Chasing goats."

Nick stares at him.

"You know," Harry says. "Like ghosts. Goats."

"I love you," Nick says. "You're awful, but god, I love you."

Harry beams and drags him down for a kiss.

~

It turns out Stinky and Smelly managed to escape because the fence was broken. Nick suspects they ate it or summat. He's convinced those goats can eat anything.

"They didn't eat the fence," Harry says.

"They could have."

Harry sighs. He sounds tired. They did spend most of the afternoon fixing said fence. Now they've landed in the living room again. Nick's in one of the armchairs, searching for information about raising crops on his laptop, while Harry's stretched out on the sofa, resting his back.

"You should kip for a bit," Nick says. "It's been a busy day."

"I can't," Harry says. "My brain won't shut up."

Nick frowns. "What's it saying, then?"

"That I'm being stupid," Harry says immediately. "That I'm kidding myself. That I'm so unprepared. That you're leaving soon, and I'm leaving soon, and there will be no one to watch the goats, and I'll have to leave them with Mum or something, and this place will go cold, and do you know it's a miracle that the water didn't freeze here last winter? They had someone come in like twice a month to heat it up so it wouldn't freeze and break everything, and at one point they couldn't do it, and luckily it wasn't that cold, because otherwise everything would have gotten fucked up, and we probably wouldn't have even had running water."

"Whoa," Nick says. "Love, take a breath."

"Nick," Harry says. "Nick, there's so much to _do_."

"Hey," Nick says. He puts the laptop away, and goes over to crouch next to the sofa, hand resting on Harry's stomach. "I know. I know, but freaking out isn't going to help, yeah?"

Harry squeezes his eyes closed and draws in a deep breath. Then he lets it out.

"There you go," Nick says, and rubs soothing circles into Harry's belly. "Just breathe. And then we can make a plan."

Harry opens one eye. "A plan?"

"Yeah," Nick says. "Get out your notebook. Let's put everything down."

"Everything that needs to be done?"

"Everything that needs to be done, and everything you want to do. Time frame, maybe? Or maybe not that, just—everything you think this place needs. And then we can try to organise it and make it work. Right?"

Harry keeps breathing deeply, in and out. "Right. Yeah. You're right."

Nick kisses his cheek, and goes to fetch his notebook.

The list itself turns out sort of depressing. And messy.

They put everything on it, starting from how some of the furniture needs replacing to how the fields are getting overgrown. There's an endless amount of things to consider: how much time Harry's going to have off in the coming year (he's not sure yet); how many workers he might need to hire (depends); how many animals, and what sort, does he want (a lot, probably); what sort of animals _should_ he get if he should even get any (not sure yet; ask Mary; cows please). 

What does he want to do with the house, what sort of crops does he want to grow, when does he want to do all this, _does_ he want to do all this or should he just sell it. The list goes on and on, taking up pages of Harry's notebook.

In the end, they write out a quick priority list. It's a simple thing that goes "goats, house, garden, everything else." Nick figures it's pretty self-evident, but Harry insists it's important to have it there.

Harry stares at the list for a long time after it's done.

"This isn't completely stupid of me, right?" he asks. "This is—I could do this, right? We could?"

Nick squeezes his shoulder. "It's not stupid," he says. "Trust me."

"But?" Harry asks.

"But," Nick sighs. "But, you know."

"It's going to need time, and work, and I don't have time right now, and everything sucks," Harry says.

Nick laughs a little at that. Harry buries his face in his hands.

"Hey," Nick says. "Hey, it's alright. What are we focusing on?"

"The goats."

"After the goats."

"The house?" Harry asks.

"Exactly," Nick says. "So we're going to find a building crew when you have time, and we'll go from there."

"Okay," Harry says quietly.

"It'll be alright," Nick says. "It won't happen overnight, but there's no reason it can't happen. You'll see."

Harry twists his hands together. "Right. I just need to prioritise, right? I mean, the band will come first, obviously. God, this is ridiculous."

"Hey, now, why is it ridiculous?"

"Can you picture the headlines?" Harry asks. "International popstar Harry Styles tries to run a farm. It backfires horribly. Everyone cries."

"Listen," Nick says. "This is yours, right? It's not theirs. This is something you did for you, and it's important to you, and you'll have a fuckload of people helping you with this, because they all love you and want you to be happy. But it's okay to leave it for a bit, you know? It'll be here, waiting. Get the builders in, fix it up so it survives the winter, come by whenever you're in England. It might take a while, but it'll happen."

Harry blinks. "Right. Okay. Okay, yeah. Yeah? I mean, I feel like shit, because I won't have time for it, but—"

"It's okay," Nick promises him. He pats the sofa underneath them. "It'll still love you. It'll be waiting."

He can see Harry swallow hard. "Right."

He still seems slightly upset. Nick's feeling a bit agitated himself, so he gets up, stretching his legs and hearing his knees pop, and extends a hand.

"Come on," Nick says. "Let's go do something. Let's go brush the goats."

They started regularly brushing the goats on Monday, after Mary taught Harry how. She said it was good for the goats and helped create a greater bond between the goat and the owner. Privately, Nick isn't sure if that's the best thing. Harry's gotten so attached already. He can't keep them. Not right now.

It's calming, though, brushing them. It's nice. The goats don't even struggle. Well, Stinky did at first, a bit, but now she just stands there and looks well pleased.

Harry breathes out hard. "Yeah. Okay."

He reaches for Nick's hand and lets Nick pull him up. Nick presses a kiss to his forehead, and they go and put their boots on together.

~

Sunday comes too fast.

When Nick thought about it a few days ago, he thought the worst part was going to be leaving Harry behind. Harry was going to stay there for the night and go to his mum's on Monday, to stay there until he had to leave for LA on Wednesday. He had meetings and writing sessions planned for a month or so until he came back for tour rehearsals and then he and the band were off again. Nick tried not to think about that part.

But no, Nick leaving isn't the worst part of Sunday.

They have to give the goats back.

They considered moving them to Harry's parents' place, or maybe Nick's sister's—they had both been up for the _idea_ of looking after them, but it wasn't going to work out logistically at the moment. 

Mary's happy to take them back at least—or to take them for _now_ , like she said. Harry can go visit and they'll be waiting for him, whenever he and the farm are ready.

It doesn't really make it easier. Harry cries.

Nick _hates_ seeing Harry cry. Also he sort of wants to cry too, but he feels like he has to be strong for Harry, so he swallows all his emotions down and just keeps petting Harry.

"Sorry," Harry keeps saying, as they load them in the back of Mary's truck. "Sorry, I'm sorry. I'm being stupid."

"Shh," Nick says. "Don't say that, love, you're not."

"I don't mean to," Harry tells Mary. "I don't want to, like, make you feel guilty, I'm really sorry."

"Oh, darling," Mary says. "It's alright, I understand. You come visit us any time, right? Any time at all."

Harry wipes at his eyes and nods. He moves away from Nick, and goes to give Mary a hug. Nick wraps his arms around himself, feeling rotten. It's stupid, really. They both knew Harry couldn't keep them right now. It was stupid to get attached.

Sometimes you can't really help it, though, Nick figures.

They watch Mary drive off with Stinky and Smelly and Nick feels his eyes prickle. God. Stupid goats.

Harry sniffs loudly. "Fuck."

"Hey," Nick says. "Better to have had goats and lost them than never have had goats at all, right?"

"Does that apply here?" Harry asks.

"Probably," Nick says. "There are plenty of goats in the sea."

"They'd drown in the sea," Harry says, aghast.

"What?" Nick asks. "Can't goats swim?"

Harry stares at him, confused. "I—I think they can."

"I thought you were the expert," Nick says. "All those books."

Harry frowns. "They can swim," he says, haughty.

"Well," Nick says. "That's great, then."

Harry blinks. "What are we talking about? Wait. I don't want _other_ goats."

"Well—" Nick starts.

"Who cares how many goats there are in the wild?" Harry's properly scowling now.

"Well there are probably a lot," Nick says, feeling a bit awkward with Harry staring at him like that. "All having fun and doing their goat things. Running around and stuff. Screaming at people, scaring them half to death. Oh my god, they _are_ like ghosts."

Harry laughs at that, but he ends up trailing off with a sad hiccup. 

"Hey," Nick says, and pulls Harry closer, burying one hand in Harry's curls. "Hey, love, you'll see them again soon. It'll all work out."

"They'll forget about me," Harry complains.

"Not true," Nick says. "Definitely not going to happen."

"What if they do?"

"Nah," Nick says. "Who could ever forget about you, eh?"

Harry shakes his head. "They're goats."

"They'll remember you," Nick says. "You'll see. It'll be alright."

"Sorry," Harry says again. "I didn't mean to cry and get all stroppy."

"'S okay," Nick says. "You know you don't have to apologise to me, right? We're both terrible criers."

Harry laughs again, but it sounds better this time.

"Let's go find something to eat, yeah?" Nick says, and drags him in for a proper hug. "Don't want to drive all the way back home, starving."

Harry hides his face against Nick's chest, and clings. He doesn't say anything.

~

Harry makes Nick pasta for lunch. Nick eats so much he knows he'll have to unbutton his jeans in the car. He doesn't really mind; it's delicious, and Harry looks happy, packing Nick more food to go.

God. Nick's going to miss him terribly.

"So," Harry says, when they're standing near the front door, Nick all packed and ready to go. "It wasn't too bad, was it?"

"No," Nick says. "It was good, right?"

Harry smiles and shrugs.

"Could have been terrible," Nick says. "You know me, could have fallen and broken my foot or something. Anything could happen on a farm. But it was alright. It was a good holiday. Was fun, yeah?"

"Yeah," Harry echoes. "Yeah, it was nice."

"Come here," Nick says, and Harry steps in close for a hug. Nick rubs his back, a bit, and sways them. God.

"I'm really glad you came," Harry says after pulling back.

"Me too," Nick says, instead of, "Of course I did." That's sort of a given, really, isn't it.

He thinks Harry knows that. Harry probably does. That's how they are, right?

Harry helps put Nick's bags into the boot, and then that's it, Nick has to go. He's got a four hour drive ahead of him, and a full day of work tomorrow, and god, he doesn't want to leave.

He pulls his phone out and takes one last picture of the house, the way it looks now before all the reconstruction that's going to happen later. The sun is reflecting back from the upstairs windows.

Harry's smiling at him, standing there in his old coat and ripped jeans, and dirty boots. The wind's blowing his hair in his face and he keeps pushing it away. Nick's chest aches.

"Should go," Nick says, pocketing his phone. "Maybe I'll manage to beat the worst traffic."

"You probably won't," Harry says cheerfully. He's a little shit. Nick loves him.

"Hey," Nick says, and reaches out to squeeze his hand. "I'll see you soon, yeah?"

Harry nods. "Yeah."

Nick wishes he sounded more sure. Or maybe he wishes _he_ was more sure. Whichever. Both.

Still, Harry runs out to the main road to wave him off. Nick flashes his hazard warning lights at him, and tries to pretend there isn't a lump in his throat.

~

Being back at work is weird. After every holiday Nick always feels like he's been gone _months_ , as though he's forgotten how to actually do his job. He has nightmares about the buttons not working before going in on Monday.

He starts to get the hang of it again sort of mid-morning, though. He tells the listeners about his holiday, about spending time with some goats. He keeps the details to himself, tight-lipped even more than he usually is, and is careful to not even mention any friends. (This was his. He gets to keep it.)

He goes around the office and catches up with everyone he sees, talks upcoming guests with Matt, listens to Ian's new story about Thurston, dares Fiona to go and mess with Matt's cereal shelf. (She doesn't.)

It's the usual, really. Back at school, back at it. The mornings will keep getting brighter with summer approaching steadily, and Nick will go back to missing Harry all the fucking time. It's how it is.

It's just this time it also comes with an extra dose of worrying about Harry, more fiercely than usual. He figures Harry is going to text him when he gets to Anne's that day. He doesn't, radio silence from him all afternoon, so Nick checks up with Anne himself. He _could_ text Harry himself, of course. But he's probably tired. He's maybe asleep, even, resting after two weeks of hard work, and Nick doesn't want to wake him if that's the case.

Anne tells him that Harry made it there safe, though looking a bit down. That just makes Nick worry more, really. He doesn't want Harry to go back to LA, still feeling like he's failed at something. Not when Harry did _amazingly_ at the farm, and they both had a great few weeks.

He sends Harry a row of emojis: a dog, a mouse, a pig, a cow, leaves, rain, and a green heart. Harry sends him back a turtle. He doesn't respond later when Nick sends him a link to an article about a goat's memory span.

Nick tries not to let it sting. He makes his tea by himself, and goes to bed alone, and tries very hard not to mope. Well. Not more than usual.

He's full on in moping mode the next day. It's a crappy Tuesday, and he at least doesn't let it creep into his work, but he still feels rotten by the end of it. Daisy bakes him biscuits when he goes over, and pets his hair, and lets him rant about how goats aren't even that great.

"Dais," he says, a lump in his throat and half a biscuit still in his mouth. "He's leaving for LA tomorrow."

Daisy sighs and strokes his hand. "You always said you understood that. That you'd let him go."

"I know," Nick says. He swallows the biscuit with difficulty, and coughs a little. Daisy hands him a glass of juice. He thinks he might cry. "I just want him to come back home to me."

If he does tear up later then he can just pretend it's over an episode of Corrie.

~

Nick's too busy to mope on Wednesday. He's decided against moping. It never brings anything good.

It doesn't _change_ anything. Nick's not doing anything by moping except wasting time. And emotions. He doesn't have those to spare.

In fact, he's decided to be emotionless. For a couple of weeks, at least. Maybe even more. Screw emotions. Who needs them, right?

The good thing is that he actually is busy, he's got meetings after the show, and a photoshoot and an interview in the afternoon, and vague plans with Gillian in the evening.

Nick's trying to pick a jacket to wear when his doorbell goes. It's way too early for it to be Gills, but he doesn't think he's expecting anyone else. He leaves the jackets and wanders out to answer the door, curious.

He stops. He stares.

"Hi," says Harry.

"Uh," Nick says. What.

He steps back automatically to let Harry in. Harry shuffles into the hall, and drops his bag. He's smiling. Maybe the slightest bit tentative, but mostly just—Harry.

Fuck. Harry.

"I thought—" Nick says, and then has to stop to clear his throat. He's not sure why he's so thrown. Harry's turned up on his doorstep out of the blue countless times. It's just— "I thought you were flying to LA today."

Harry shrugs. "Rescheduled my flight."

"Really?" Nick asks. "Then. Why didn't you go back to the farm?"

"Well," Harry says, and chews on his lip. "That's not really why I rescheduled it, you know."

"Oh," Nick says. He smiles. "Right."

Harry grins back, and throws his arms around him. Nick staggers under the weight for a moment. Harry's warm and solid, and hugging Nick _really_ fucking tightly.

"Hey," Nick says. "Hey, love, you alright?"

"Missed you," Harry says, and draws in a shuddery breath. "God, Nick, I missed you so much."

"Are you sure it was me?" Nick asks, trying for teasing. "Maybe you missed the goats."

Harry makes a sad sound. "I missed you _and_ the goats."

"Aw, love," Nick says, and holds him tighter. "'M sorry, I shouldn't have brought them up."

"It's okay," Harry says, muffled against his shoulder. Nick strokes his back.

"I missed you, too," Nick says.

"Yeah?" Harry asks.

"Of course," Nick says. 

"Even though it's only been a few days?"

"I love you," Nick answers, helpless. "Like, I'm really properly in love with you, Haz. So...yeah."

"Me too," Harry says. "You knew that, right? We knew that."

"Yeah," Nick says. "I'm pretty sure we knew that."

"It's different now, isn't it?" Harry asks. "Like, it's not just me? I had to come here. I couldn't leave. The night you left, I thought it was just that the house was so big, of course I couldn't stand to be alone there after that, but it's not that, it's—I missed you _so_ much."

"God, Harry," Nick says, lump in his throat. "I always miss you when you're not here. It's terrible."

Harry pulls back at that, looking properly upset now. No, that's not what Nick meant to do. "I'm sorry," Harry says. "I don't want you to feel like that, I—"

"No, wait," Nick says, gently cutting him off. "That's not what I'm saying. It's not your fault, love. It's your job and you love it. I'd never blame you for that. I'm just saying that I do. Miss you. Terribly. But I can handle it. I didn't want to make you feel guilty."

Harry's face clears a little. "Oh. Okay."

"And then sometimes I start to wonder if I'm allowed to miss you that much. I'm usually rubbish at missing people. Like, I get all mopey when you leave, did you know that?"

Harry tilts his head. "Think Alexa told me once. I thought she was just taking the piss."

"No, it's true," Nick says, feeling mildly embarrassed now. "It's awful. I annoy everyone."

"Mm, no change there, then," Harry says.

Nick gasps in mock outrage. Then he relents. "Well, yeah, you're probably right."

Harry shakes his head and steps closer again. "No, I'm not." He leans up and presses a soft kiss to Nick's lips. 

"So," Nick says. "Is that why you came? Because you missed me."

"Yeah," Harry says. "That's enough, innit?"

"I think so," Nick says. "I mean, it's doing wonders for my ego."

"So I can stay here?" Harry asks. "Until I have to go back to LA."

"Of course," Nick says. "You know you can."

Harry smiles a little. "And can I come back here after? Like, properly this time. As in, you'll know when my flight is getting in and we both can't wait, and we text all the time and call every day, and. Like. Like that?"

"You mean—"

"I mean, not like when I'd call you up when I was already here and I didn't know if you were busy or not, and I'd ask if I could crash at yours, and it was all, like. I don't know. I want to do it properly. Like, come home and have it be here, you know?" Something in Harry's expression falters for a moment. "You know what I mean, right?"

He's explaining himself sort of terribly, but. "Yeah," Nick says. "Yeah, I know what you mean."

"Good," Harry says. "That's a yes, right? I think it's a yes. Is that weird? I feel like I know you're going to say yes. I just had to ask."

"Yeah," Nick says, and strokes his thumb over Harry's cheek. "So. So, I just had to ask if we could be proper boyfriends, who actually properly live together, and when someone asks me if I'm seeing anyone then I say, yes, obviously?"

Harry laughs. "Yeah. Fuck, yeah."

"Should have done it sooner then, I suppose," Nick says, tone light.

Harry pulls him in for a kiss. "Yeah. Me too."

~

"Nick," Harry says. "Nick."

Nick buries his face in the pillow.

"Nick, come on."

"No," Nick mumbles. "Cold. Dark."

"Niiick." Harry pokes him. Nick swats at his hand. "It's time to milk the cows."

"It's too early," Nick says. Cows. God, why did they get cows? Because Harry saw one and it looked at him with sad cow eyes, apparently. Awful.

"It's not too early," Harry says. "You used to get up this early all the time."

"Back when I was young and carefree, Harry," Nick says. "Back then. Young and beautiful."

Harry kisses the back of his neck. "Shut up. And the cows aren't going to care if you're beautiful, are they?"

Nick opens one eye and glares at Harry. He's grinning at him. Of course.

"What if they do?" Nick asks, rolling over onto his back. "What if cows have high standards for beauty? I need to get my beauty sleep, Haz."

"No, you need to get up and help me milk the cows," Harry says. "Otherwise they could _die_."

"I hate it when you say that," Nick complains.

"Well it's _true_ ," Harry says. "Get up, please?"

Nick sighs and drags him in for a kiss. His mouth probably tastes terrible. Serves Harry right.

Harry doesn't seem to care, though, deepening the kiss. When he finally pulls away he's smiling softly. "Cows," he says. Nick groans. "And then the goats. And then breakfast."

"Of course," Nick says. "Can't forget the goats, can we?"

"No," Harry says, and presses one more kiss to Nick's forehead. "Can't forget the goats."

Nick smiles.


End file.
